


Spiritual Weapons

by platinumtongue



Series: Unrestrained [3]
Category: Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, Mo Dao Zu Shi, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV), 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù, 魔道祖师 | Módào Zǔshī (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Chaos, Comedy of Errors, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Group Sex, Love Languages, Love Triangles, M/M, Mild S&M, Mischief, Misunderstandings, Netorare, Polyamory, Possibly Unrequited Love, Reversible Couple, Romantic Comedy, Swingers, Xianxia, Yaoi, danmei - Freeform, danxia, seme jin guangyao, seme lan wangji, seme lan xichen, sexless_marriage, spiritual_tools_coming_to_life, sword_spirits, swords_coming_to_life, troublemaker_Wei_Wuxian, uke jin guangyao, uke lan xichen, uke wei wuxian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:47:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 45,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29032650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/platinumtongue/pseuds/platinumtongue
Summary: Wei Wuxian accidentally creates an incense which brings to life the swords of Lan Wangji, himself, Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao. So Bichen, Suibian, Shuoyue and Hensheng all become living, beautiful men, who quickly set about wreaking all manner of havoc through the Cloud Recesses.(papapa starting in Ch 3 ^^)
Relationships: Bichen/Suibian, Jiang Cheng/Lan XiChen, Jin Guangyao/Jiang Cheng/Lan Xichen, Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian, Lan XiChen/Jin GuangYao, Nie Mingjue/Kang Ruien, Shuoyue/Hensheng
Series: Unrestrained [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1814245
Comments: 47
Kudos: 185





	1. Incense Chaos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note 1: takes place in the Gray Skies of Qinghe AU, in which A-Yao never kills Nie Mingjue, Wei Wuxian retains his original body, and Wangxian as well as Xiyao become happy couples together within the Cloud Recesses.  
> Note 2: 熠耀 yìyào, the name Wei Wuxian gives Hensheng, means “sparkle, glitter, luminescent,” so he’s essentially calling him "Brother Twinkle."

Take note, brave cultivator. You may claim that you know your sword. But few could ever be prepared for what a conversation with them might actually be like. Be wary that you do not fall into the same trap as these poor lovesick Taoists.

...

As the Cloud Recesses settled into another peaceful evening, some incense that Wei Wuxian had been experimenting with had a very strange effect on the cultivators in both the Chamber of Silence and the neighboring Cold Chamber, where the scent had also drifted in. It had the effect of opening a can of worms between the couples. 

Jin Guangyao sat at his personal study area within the Cold Chamber, in the middle of teaching himself some of the more obscure family history of the Lan. He had been sitting in this exact position for almost two hours, his neck and eyes beginning to ache, but his posture still impeccable. Across from him, though he had been urging his gaze to avoid looking up that way, his beloved sat in his own study area, quietly mediating to restore his energy after having completed writing some sect records. Lan Xichen’s ever-peaceful expression now even more a very faint, divine smile, as if he could not be more contented.

But though he had succumbed and begun admiring his ethereally beautiful husband, at that moment, Guangyao’s attention was diverted as he heard the sound of overly joyful laughter from not too far away, and his eyes flicked in the direction of the Chamber of Silence. Curiously, he then turned his gaze back to Lan Xichen. 

The elder of the Twin Jades bore a tolerant expression, but some of the peacefulness of his meditation had clearly been lost. Even so, he made no indication that he would stop any time soon. A-Yao cast his eyes down once more, but didn’t absorb much that he read after that.

This had been their every day, ever since he had given up his futile attempts to save Xichen from himself, and had officially become his cultivation partner. He had known this before, but Lan Xichen was truly perfect in every way. On a daily basis, his first priority was the safety and prosperity of his sect. He was indeed at his most admirable when he was quietly solving difficult problems with the ease of great intelligence, sensitivity, experience and fair judgment. 

His next concern was his close family, but the two things were of course inextricable from each other. He did not interfere overtly in the lives of either Lan Qiren or Lan Wangji, but little actions of his each day ensured that their lives went a little smoother, and he always made time for both them and A-Yao. 

Of course with A-Yao, his consideration did not end with small niceties, such as switching duties or arranging conveniences like meals or clothing, as he would do for his uncle and brother. When they were alone, his devotion was almost total, always attentive, easy-going, and even cautiously physically affectionate. But only very, very cautiously. 

His next priority was his disciples, with whom he did not always have a hands-on approach, but whom he made sure to know by name and to at least maintain some familiarity with, even the outer disciples. Despite their great respect and subtle fear of him, they all knew they could turn to him with their concerns, and if he could not help, he would direct them to someone who could. 

A sect leader’s life was busy, even a barely competent one. And even Lan Xichen’s own talent and efficiency at his job still did little to lessen his many responsibilities. He never showed it, but Guangyao was certain he fell asleep so easily at nine every evening partly from sheer exhaustion. Truly, a paragon of virtue.

And in an environment like that, while married to such an incomparable human with so many lofty concerns, what low and vulgar creature would dare to ask for sex?

Yet this had been the concern most weighing Jin Guangyao’s mind of late. He was by no means unhappy. He considered his life a true avarice of riches at this point, and almost every waking moment was filled with contentment. But feeling loved, for him, meant being touched. It was his nature, and not something he could change by wishing. As a result, instead of enjoying his newlywed bliss, each day he grew a little less hopeful, and the twinge of pain from self-doubt grew a little deeper, of whether he could ever be fully loved by this perfect creature.

Lan Xichen took in a deep breath, signaling that his meditation was at last complete. He opened his eyes and gazed on Jin Guangyao with deep affection and contentment. And Guangyao was unable to do anything but return such a beautiful expression of love with his own somewhat more cautious one. Xichen gazed at him for some time without seeming to grow tired of the warm silence between them. 

“Shall we go to bed?” he asked.

Jin Guangyao nodded with a warm smile, which was at least partly sincere. Of course, he knew what “going to bed” meant for Lan Xichen. It meant going to bed. Nothing more. But it still meant that at least they could be lying side by side, which was infinitely better than being across the room from one another.

Xichen rose and moved over to the bed, pulling up the covers and then holding out a hand toward A-Yao to help him in beside him. A-Yao’s heart fluttered at his effortlessly sweet gestures and gratefully lay down beside him. Once Xichen pulled the covers up over both of them and stroked Guangyao’s hair affectionately for a moment, they settled down side by side, A-Yao curling up just a few inches away, as Xichen lay on his back with his hands folded over his stomach. When his breathing became even and deep, A-Yao gave in to his daily indulgence and torture, and curled his fingers with only a feather-light grasp over Xichen’s arm as he slept.

Though this was perhaps the most serious concern of the four, Wei Wuxian had his own struggles too. Since bringing up the subject once, weeks ago, he had been unable to get Lan Wangji to budge even the slightest inch on the issue of whether he had ever felt attraction for anyone other than Wei Wuxian. Hanguang-jun had both the discipline and temperament of an ox, and while slow to anger and generally obliging, he was also incredibly stubborn and fixed in his ways. And no matter how much Wei Wuxian pleaded, kicked, teased, enticed or protested, he refused to admit he had ever felt the slightest sexual attraction to anyone else.

Now, it wasn’t exactly that Wei Ying wanted a threesome. He certainly didn’t want Lan Zhan wandering around cheating on him (although secretly watching him as he did so was an idea that had started to become a turn-on for him recently). But Wei Wuxian was a prideful creature who did not like to admit defeat. And no matter how great Lan Wangji’s self-control, he refused to believe that anyone’s sexuality could be turned on and off like a faucet. That fuddy-duddy husband of his was going to admit it some way or other. It was just a question of how.

His experiments with incense had in fact all been toward this purpose. He had been trying to use his talismans and tricks to create a scent that would disconnect a cultivator’s self-control from their physical desires, hoping to make some independent manifestation of them so that he could ask Lan Zhan’s desires directly. But obviously he had no idea what he was doing, was reckless and optimistic by nature, and naturally things did not work out that way. That night, though all slept peacefully, each of the four cultivators was troubled by strange dreams, in which they all saw faces that they had never seen before, yet seemed utterly familiar.

The following day, unbeknownst to all, the population inside the Cloud Recesses inexplicably increased by four. While at the same time, the number of swords mysteriously lessened by the same number.

Wei Wuxian went out into the woods as soon as he woke (barely before noon) in search of some mildly hallucinogenic fungi to use with in his incense experiments. He had been kneeling and examining different specimens for some time when he happened to look up, and his heart fluttered slightly against his will at the scene which greeted him.

A glimmering, gold-ensconced figure stood in achingly beautiful repose, simply appreciating the sight of a waterfall in the distance. Though his shape was human, it took Wei Wuxian a moment of simply staring to come to that conclusion. The first impression of this creature was of something divine. A young man with pitch black hair, pushed back from his face by an elegant crown of gold feathers. Almost everything he wore was gold and, despite its ostentation, displayed impeccable refinement. He wore no sword, nor showed any sign that he was a cultivator, and Wei Wuxian genuinely wondered whether he might not be a prince or heavenly general.

The glimmering gold creature noticed him and graced him with a subtle expression of pleasure at the sight of him. But the man said nothing to him.

“Uh…hello,” said Wei Wuxian with an awkward smile. “You’re…not a disciple of the Lan, I take it?”

The beautiful man smiled as if he found this idea genuinely amusing. “Not quite,” he admitted. He began to step toward Wei Wuxian, and though Wei Ying normally would have been wary of such a direct approach of a stranger, somehow he could tell there was nothing to fear from him. 

“Are you…a guest here?”

The man nodded gracefully, his eyes demurely closing. “Along with my master.”

“Oh…and who is your master?”

The glimmering man only chuckled, appearing to be fond of Wei Wuxian’s presence but also a little bit condescending. Yet he also seemed likely to keep his cards close to his chest. As he finally came close enough that he could speak very softly, he asked politely, “First, could you tell me what brings you out here alone, Master Wei? Hanguang-jun would be worried if you were found in the company of a strange man.”

Wei Wuxian laughed and made a doubtful noise. “Nah, he’s jealous but he knows I can look after mys-…” he paused in the middle of speaking and blinked up at the shimmering figure. “You know me?”

Another demure nod. “We should be getting back. The others will worry,” said the beautiful man, holding a hand out before him to graciously guide Wei Wuxian back to the main complex.

Somewhat dumbfounded by this entire exchange, Wei Wuxian reluctantly followed his suggestion. “Hey, wait,” he said as they walked. “You know me, but I don’t even know your name. Not that I mean any offense, I do forget things easily, but I’m sure I would remember meeting someone like you.”

The man smiled, but it was an empty one. He became reluctant and Wei Wuxian wondered whether he would answer at all. “Forgive me, Master Wei. I’m not very fond of my own name. But for the moment, if you were to give me a nickname, I would be very honored.”

“Oh! Ha ha. Well in that case…Yiyao-xiong,” he said with a merry chuckle. 

The newly christened Yiyao seemed aware why Wei Wuxian found it funny, but also appeared quietly pleased by his new nickname. He nodded in gracious acceptance toward his new designation, and together they chatted peacefully on their way back. 

When they arrived, though, they discovered quite a scene at the normally peaceful Cloud Recesses. As soon as they entered the complex, a pair of disciples ran in an undignified blur away from a meditation room, fleeing a heavy scroll that was thrown out after them. Shocked to see the peace of this place broken in such a way (and amazed it was by someone other than himself), Wei Wuxian ran over to see what all the commotion was. 

As soon as he peaked his head in, and for the second time today, he was struck totally silent and helpless by incomparable beauty. 

In the center of the room stood a tall figure in gleaming white and ice blue, in fabric that streamed like water in places but was also structured like armor in others. The graceful shape was still whirling as Wei Wuxian entered, and gloriously long, white hair whipped around out of the way to reveal a gleaming and beautiful, chiseled face of a man that was devastatingly handsome, but cold in his expression. His lips parted and appeared slightly pink from exertion. Could this beauty possibly be the one who threw the scroll?

Judging from the way the other three occupants – Zewu-jun, Lan Qiren and a young disciple – were backed away at the edges of the room, all seeming in awe of this cold, white-haired beauty, that seemed the only possible conclusion. 

“Heh…” Wei Wuxian muttered to himself. “He’s just like Lan Zhan…”

“What…ever!” shouted the beauty without warning, flipping over a small desk in frustration. But after this outburst, he inexplicably folded his arms and looked sullenly away, almost like a pouting child.

Wei Wuxian, Lan Xichen and Lan Qiren all exchanged quizzical looks. Had they heard him correctly? 

“Young Master…” said Zewu-jun cautiously. “If you could explain what has upset you, we can-“

“What…ever!” said the beauty, with more insistence this time. He flicked his sleeves in irritation and turned away in a perfect impression of a spoiled princess. “I want Suibian,” he finally managed to add two words to his original demand.

After a moment of tense silence, in which shock and horror respectively gathered over the two Lan men, suddenly the truth of the situation dawned on Wei Wuxian. Unable to restrain himself, he burst out laughing. He gasped for breath and his sides ached as he hung from the doorway and trembled with laughter, both in joy and in sheer amusement. Even the cold beauty turned to look at him, his temper fading with curiosity and interest. 

Wheezing, Wei Wuxian eventually managed, “You really are just like your master, aren’t you?” His laughter finally faded and he managed a warm smile as he said, “Bichen.”

Anger in the cold beauty’s face faded into cool and collected obedience. The heart-breakingly beautiful sword spirit moved gracefully over to Wei Wuxian, looking him over carefully. Eventually, he raised a hand to pat Wei Wuxian’s head several times, like a parent rewarding a good child.

Wei Wuxian giggled but happily accepted the treatment from another part of his husband’s soul. “Thank you, Bichen. Ha ha, yes, you’re very caring, aren’t you?”

A flutter of white eyelashes, and a hint of pink on the high, ivory cheekbones. Bichen shifted a little closer to Wei Wuxian as if wanting to be petted too. 

At that moment, another figure in white strode quickly into the room, taking in the scene in a moment. Lan Wangji’s countenance darkened as he clearly recognized the part of his own soul on sight. “Bichen,” he said sharply. 

But the moment he had entered the room, Bichen had wrapped his arms around Wei Wuxian and was protectively holding him, looking over at his master with some regret at his arrival. He lowered his gaze guiltily, but made no move to extricate himself from Wei Wuxian at first. But Lan Wangji was having none of this.

“Manners,” Wangji said simply. 

That, for any part of Wangji’s soul, was apparently the magic word. After only a millisecond of hesitation, Bichen loosened his hold on Wei Wuxian and moved over to stand obediently before his master, awaiting a command.

“Whew!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed in appreciation. “That’s an image! Look at these two beauties!” he said, grinning as he clasped both men by the shoulders and further appreciated the sight of them standing side by side. 

Indeed, though Lan Wangji’s handsomeness was of a somewhat different flavor to his ethereal sword spirit, the two standing together – especially Lan Wangji’s silky black hair contrasted with his sword’s icy white – were breathtaking. 

Though just as stony-faced as Lan Wangji, he could swear he saw a hint of a smile on Bichen’s face as he gazed down at Wei Wuxian. Meanwhile, Lan Zhan closed his eyes to hide his own irritation at the whole situation. “Wei Ying,” he said, after regaining his patience. “The incense?”

“Eheh…” Wei Wuxian chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck, and neither confirming nor denying Wangji’s assumption. 

A sigh. “Very well. Is it just this one?” Wangji asked.

“Um…” Wei Wuxian started to answer, unconsciously turning around with a small amount of dread toward the glimmering golden figure he had left just outside. From the doorway, the man in gold smiled politely at all of them, still saying nothing, even as Wei Wuxian was cautiously putting two and two together about him. “Well…”

…

Unaware of these happenings, Jin Guangyao was in fact at this moment attempting a tried and tested Lan technique for firming one’s resolve. He hated the cold, and in truth he struggled most at night when his emotional need and physical need for human warmth were at their peak. But this morning he was standing in the Cold Pond, wearing nothing but a loin cloth, and attempting to meditate.

He had read about this technique a hundred times by now, though it never occurred to him to try it himself. He was not certain that it would work for everyone. It was nonetheless true that the Lan themselves believed in its effectiveness, and it was difficult to question methods that had produced Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji. If he could reach a deep enough point of tranquility, emptying his thoughts as he meditated here, he would no longer feel the cold. Once he had done that, apparently, the tranquility would come when he needed it, and he should have much greater control over his desires. At least, that was the theory.

But at the moment at least, it was hard to think about anything apart from how much he wanted to yell and run back to the shore, burying himself in as many blankets as he could find. The cold was piercing, instantly numbing his lower extremities and sinking right down to his bones. For brief instants, he could imagine that he was wrapped up in warm wool before a fire, but every time he felt he had mastered the technique of making himself feel warm when he was not, the feeling of cold returned and stung at him even worse.

When he could not stand it any longer, he shivered and shook himself gradually back to the edge of the pond. He had planned to sun himself to dry off, but couldn’t bear feeling the cold breeze against his skin for one more second. Just as he crouched down to pick up his clothes, however, his eye was caught by a flash of white from around a tree. Someone was watching him. He hadn’t even noticed the approach. 

He hurriedly stood and clutched his yi over his body in embarrassment, trying to see who it was. At first he merely saw flowing white fabric and a vaguely familiar silhouette. He felt a flutter of warmth in his heart as he thought he recognized that presence. “Xichen?” he asked gently, not wanting to sound accusatory and frighten him off. 

But as soon as the figure peaked out a little further from behind the tree at the sound of his voice, he realized he was mistaken. Though bearing a subtle resemblance to Lan Xichen, the creature he saw at that moment, glimmering with white light amid the evergreen trees, appeared to him to be some mythical being descended from heaven to bless this place with its presence. Pure white clothes and pure white hair, and a somewhat icy aesthetic, yet delicate. Something in the man’s expression reminded Jin Guangyao of the moon, and made him feel instantly at ease, and yet somehow also pleasantly nervous.

“You are…A-Yao?” asked the ethereal man in a gentle voice, looking hopeful.

Guangyao’s heart pounded. Why was he so nervous? He nodded a little, feeling very self-conscious about how little he was wearing. “Forgive me, you…are not Xichen,” he said, though even his own voice did not sound quite sure to himself. 

The beautiful man’s gaze lowered in disappointment. He mildly shook his head.

“Sh-…Shuoyue?” A-Yao murmured, disbelieving even himself. He couldn’t explain why he thought this, even as he felt some trepidation toward admitting it. But he felt at that moment that he had to reassure this person that he was accepted, that everything was all right. Despite power noticeably emanating from him, he seemed somehow desperately fragile.

Light-colored eyes gleamed softly amid white eyelashes at the sound of his name. Shuoyue seemed unable to tear his gaze from Guangyao as he cautiously approached. But his expression changed as his eyes traveled down to Guangyao’s hands to see them shaking, and the pile of clothes in front of him. 

“You’re cold…”

Without another word, the sword spirit efficiently wrapped up A-Yao in all his clothes, and then to his disbelief, swallowed his small body up in a warm embrace. A-Yao couldn’t muster a single word for many long moments. His eyes fluttered as he felt a need that had long been unanswered finally requited, but in such a strange manner, by someone he knew and yet didn’t. He sank helplessly into the feeling of warmth and affection that this innocent creature selflessly gave him. As he cautiously held him in return, his hands trembled again, but not from the cold anymore.

“Shuoyue,” he finally managed after nearly a full minute of silence. “…forgive me. I showed you something undignified,” he said in his normal, controlled voice, effortlessly breaking free and smiling kindly up at him. “It was very kind of you to help me.”

Yet as he broke contact, Shuoyue’s painfully lovely expression took on a hint of loss. It faded momentarily and he simply watched A-Yao with serene attentiveness, apparently waiting for orders. Even standing perfectly still and with barely any noticeable facial expression, his presence up close was dazzling.

“How did you come to be out here?” A-Yao asked him gently. 

Shuoyue’s brows grew troubled again. He cast his gaze out toward the middle of the forest, looking here and there and seeming somehow lonely. “I was…looking for someone,” he murmured. 

“Oh? For who?”

A hint of a blush on his alabaster cheeks, and yet he still seemed vaguely sad. “Beloved one,” he whispered.

And in that moment, Meng Yao felt so much regret and disgust with himself that he almost didn’t feel human. It wasn’t him. It was clear from this devastatingly beautiful creature’s behavior, still casting his gaze out searchingly now and then, that he had not found the “beloved one” that he had apparently come here looking for. Meng Yao was standing right before a piece of his own beloved’s soul. But it wasn’t him that he wanted.

“Ah,” he said, after a moment able to manage a practiced smile again. “Then…we shall search together.”

Shuoyue took in a sharp breath, quickly shaking his glimmering white-haired head. “No, A-Yao…you are cold,” he said, quite naturally reaching out and rubbing A-Yao’s arms to encourage blood flow. 

It was both an intimate and a casual gesture, and despite lacking any romantic connotation at all, it was something he felt sure Lan Xichen would never do. Guangyao felt himself torn between a deep gratitude for this moment, and terrible pain at the thought that even this was more than he would ever receive from the one he loved. 

He gave a soft, helpless laugh. “Well then…let us return to the Cloud Recesses for now. I will help you find someone…more suitable to help you search.”

Shuoyue smiled softly, though he still seemed concerned, and briefly reached out to hold Jin Guangyao’s cheek in his hand. A-Yao closed his eyes and allowed this blissful experience only for a moment. Then he smiled politely, opened them again, and held a hand out to guide Shuoyue back to his master.

As they were talking by the Cold Pond, the Cloud Recesses was still in a bit of an uproar. Currently, the whole complex was in search of the last of the four missing sword spirits. Predictably, it was the most troublesome one. When they found him, even Wei Wuxian managed to develop some shame.

Inside the Chamber of Silence, where they finally found him, the secret compartment under the bed had been thrown open, and multiple empty jars of Emperor’s Smile were strewn about the floor. Though no less attractive than any of the others, the dissolute creature was drunk, half disrobed, and flirting outrageously with poor little Jingyi, who hadn’t been able to find an opportunity to run away. 

The roguishly handsome man – much resembling Wei Wuxian – had a wild mane of barely tamed hair, holding a reddish tint that made his skin beneath it seem all the more tempting. Much of his skin was visible, after all, as he had only loosely draped his yi around his arms and was all but bare down to the waist. He laughed sweetly as he hung off of Jingyi for balance.

“Everybody’s here…it must be a party,” he observed, still giggling mischievously.

Lan Wangji took in a breath of what, for him, was abject shock. He seemed at a loss for words. 

Holding his hands over his face, partly in shame but partly trying not to laugh out loud, Wei Wuxian managed quietly, “Suibian…I know it goes against your nature, but this is the Cloud Recesses. You can’t just do whatever here.” 

“That sounds like a challenge,” Suibian said with a chuckle. 

“Bichen,” came Wangji’s cold voice. Evidently he had seen quite enough. “Restrain him.”

“Yes.”

In a blur of glimmering white and blue, Bichen flashed past everyone between them and tackled Suibian to the ground, allowing a terrified Jingyi to finally escape. As soon as he was pinned, Suibian’s eyes lit up with passion as he stared up at the cold beauty above him. He smirked. 

Suddenly though, he winced and made a pitiful noise. “It hurts! My wrist! Ah…I think it’s broken…”

Lan Wangji, who had seen this coming, quickly shook his head and held out a hand to stop him, but could not manage the verbal to Bichen warning in time.

Bichen guiltily released his hold, worriedly examining Suibian’s wrist. Of course he had no sooner doner this than he was flipped onto his back, Suibian straddling his waist and pinning his wrists to the floor instead. 

Suibian chuckled warmly over him. “You really fell for that? How dare you…be so cute?” With these words, he leaned down, neatly ensconcing himself in Bichen’s slightly larger body, and pressed a soft but insistent kiss to the lips of the newly formed sword spirit.

Unlike his master, Bichen’s blush was so hot that the others in the room could almost feel it. He seemed perfectly stunned into inaction, like a downed swan gracefully but tragically splayed out on the ground. 

It was at this moment that, drawn by the commotion, Jin Guangyao and Shuoyue found them. Jin Guangyao blinked at the sight of the two sword spirits still passionately embracing on the ground before turning a quizzical expression up toward Lan Xichen. 

“Er-ge…?” he asked, unable to form even the most basic questions.

Xichen could do nothing but slowly shake his head, as if he simply wished to render this day a thing of the past, without being forced to comment on any of it.

“Beloved!” came Shuoyue’s low and gentle voice.

All heads now turned toward perhaps the most dazzling of all the sword spirits, who seemed somehow even more so as he spotted the one he was looking for and gracefully moved toward him with a very subtle but entirely joyful smile. 

At the other end of his gaze, the figure in gold, whom Wei Wuxian had dubbed “Yiyao,” stood patiently waiting at the back of the room. At first he had seemed mildly amused by the various antics of the other swords, but at the sound of Shuoyue’s voice, all happiness faded from his face. He did not react as Shuoyue approached. But then, as soon as the other sword was about to enter within arm’s reach of him, his gaze flicked minutely in the direction of Shuoyue’s feet. The other’s footsteps faltered. 

And then, as far as anyone else knew, nothing happened. The two remained this way for a few moments, Yiyao starring ahead with an unamused expression, and Shuoyue watching him expectantly as if waiting to be told what to do. But gradually, Shuoyue’s head lowered in defeat. And as the others watched in wonder, one after another, great tears formed like dewdrops over his white eyelashes and fell heavily to the ground beneath his feet.

Though all remained in silent shock for some time, Wei Wuxian eventually turned to Lan Xichen and asked, “Z-…Zewu-jun…did something happen?”

But Xichen seemed just as baffled by this as by the behavior of any of the other swords. Of all those present, only Jin Guangyao did not seem surprised. He gazed bitterly at the man in gold from across the room. 

In the end, all he had to say was, “Hensheng.” With that, his bitter gaze was returned by an equally resentful one.

Hensheng smiled, but without even the slightest attempt to appear sincere. He bowed his head in a subtle expression of surface-level deference. “Master.”


	2. The Scent of Peonies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the cultivators attempt to get used to their newly manifested human spiritual weapons, things between Hensheng and Shuoyue grow rockier still. At the same time, master and sword still seem unable to communicate their feelings to each other.

Lan Xichen was not finding it very easy to maintain his composure in these circumstances. At least they had now separated all the swords and masters into a single meditation room, both to avoid any further disruption to the peace of the Cloud Recesses and to figure out how to return them to their original forms. Normally, Lan Qiren’s advice would have been invaluable at such times, but both Lan brothers had serious concerns about his health while Suibian was present.

With their masters standing and curiously observing them from a distance, all swords spirits had been instructed to sit in the center of the room, which most managed with at least some degree of dignity and obedience. Suibian, after having been forced to wear his clothes properly and sober up with some tea, rested his chin on his hand and looked sourly out the window, disappointed that the fun was apparently already done.

Though no one could deny that the dazzling sword spirits were fascinating to look at, Xichen found his eyes drifting behind and to his left, where A-Yao stood. He had still not said anything after identifying his sword. Yet A-Yao seemed to be the only one who understood what had happened between Hensheng and Shuoyue just now. For his own part, Xichen was rather shaken by how emotionally fragile Shuoyue seemed to be, to have cried so suddenly like that.

Wei Wuxian crouched down before Suibian and observed him with fascination and delight. “Ho ho! You really are Suibian, aren’t you?”

Suibian smiled a little, despite his disappointment, seeming genuinely fond of his master. “I’m surprised you recognize me, Wei Wuxian, you scoundrel. You left me alone so long I was beginning to think you’d divorced me for Chenqing.”

“Ah, it’s not like that,” Wei Wuxian grumbled, sitting down before him and scratching his head uncomfortably. “I do feel bad, but you know there’d be no point. On the contrary I feel guilty carrying you around when I…you know.”

Suibian didn’t respond, his gaze cast to the floor. Apparently the loss of his master’s golden core was just as painful for him. Neither found it easy to discuss.

“By the way…you sealed yourself when I was lost in the Burial Mounds, didn’t you?” Wei Wuxian asked with a cautiously sweet smile. “Thank you.”

Suibian rolled his eyes, though seemingly to hide embarrassment. “Forget about that, you sentimental fool. I was just a little upset.”

“Suibian,” said Bichen, touching his shoulder in a gentle but patronizing way. “He is your master.”

“I know,” Suibian told him with a curious smile, his good mood apparently restored by Bichen’s kind attention. “He’s the only one who appreciates my teasing.”

Bichen opened his mouth and took a breath as if he would speak, but for some reason he then blushed and closed it again, his white eyelashes fluttering over his alabaster cheeks. 

Xichen cleared his throat quietly to bring some order. “Master Wei. Have you learned anything so far from observation?”

Wei Wuxian folded his arms thoughtfully. “Hm…”

He paced around Suibian for some time, closely observing him and now and then muttering to himself. He crouched down and grasped the sword spirit’s wrist, lifting up his arm and limply shaking it, while the obedient but puzzled sword looked up at him in confusion. He lowered Suibian’s arm but kept his hold on it to then carefully feel his meridians. 

“Hmm…”

He muttered a brief apology before opening Suibian’s yi and for some reason pressing his ear to his once again exposed chest. Seeing this, Bichen shot up to his knees. Lan Wangji saw this and held out a hand to indicate he must control his protective urges. This at least seemed to quiet him momentarily. Fortunately for all concerned, Wei Wuxian soon withdrew his head and looked Suibian hard in the eye. 

He held up a single finger. “Follow my finger. Don’t move your head.”

Though still puzzled, Suibian’s eyes followed the tip of Wei Wuxian’s finger as he moved it side to side at a varying rhythm. 

“Okay. Show me your teeth.”

Suibian gave a comically large smile.

“Stick out your tongue,” Wei Wuxian commanded next.

“Blegh,” said Suibian, sticking out his long tongue. 

“Say, ‘ahh’.”

“Gghhaaahhh,” Suibian obliged, leaving his mouth hanging wide open but still looking curiously around the room. 

“All right,” Wei Wuxian said, getting to his feet again. He faced Lan Xichen and smiled helplessly. “Nope. Nothing,” he said.

Jin Guangyao let out a soft sigh. He soon turned and simply left the room. Xichen worriedly looked after him through the window, but moments later he could be seen entering the library. He wanted to go after him, but he could not while this issue was still unresolved.

“Xiong-zhang,” said Wangji softly, as if sensing his thoughts. “What should we do?”

Xichen shook his head, wanting to reassure his brother but still uncertain about so many things. 

Wei Wuxian shrugged. “For all we know, they’ll vanish the next time we close our eyes. So why don’t we make hay while the sun shines?”

Xichen sighed, but eventually managed a tolerant expression. “By which you mean…?”

The troublemaker chuckled, sitting down beside Suibian and hugging him around the shoulders. “What cultivator gets a chance like this? We rely on them so much and they never ask for anything in return. Now we can actually look them in the eye and talk to them! Isn’t this a rare gift?”

Despite his initial irritation at Wei Wuxian’s ever-overly optimistic nature, Xichen’s eyes slowly turned to Shuoyue, the ethereally beautiful spirit who was watching all this patiently in perfect posture, his white hair draping nearly to the floor. He even looked cautiously pleased as his master looked at him. With that, Xichen could not help but smile softly as well. 

“I suppose Master Wei has a point,” Xichen said. “We do not seem to be in any immediate danger. And it is true we would never normally have such an opportunity to deepen the bond between master and spiritual weapon. For tonight at least, I suggest we show our honored guests every courtesy. And…as you say, Master Wei, the problem may resolve itself.”

As Xichen was speaking, Bichen slowly got up, wordlessly removed Wei Wuxian’s arm from around Suibian, tipped Wei Wuxian backward so he fell on his butt a few feet away, and held Suibian close. Though he looked resentful toward Wei Wuxian, his expression was equally of a nervous child not wanting to be punished for acting selfishly.

Wei Wuxian laughed weakly. “Yeah…what could go wrong?”

Closing his eyes to rid himself of the trepidation he felt at that simple phrase spoken by the Yiling Patriarch, Xichen said, “Please excuse me for a few moments. I will return soon,” he said, first to Wei Wuxian. But he added the last to Shuoyue, who looked somewhat concerned when he said he would leave. 

After he left, Shuoyue looked despondently at the ground for a few moments and briefly over toward Hensheng beside him. But as before, though his expression showed no malice, the glimmering gold sword spirit that occupied his thoughts would not even do him the courtesy of looking at him. 

At that moment, Shuoyue flinched at the sound of Suibian’s laughter while he flirted with an embarrassed Bichen, who neither seemed comfortable to allow this flirting to continue nor to let him go. Shuoyue looked away with a hint of bitterness in his expression, even as his twin sword spirit gave him an apologetic look. 

“Yours…I don’t like him,” Shuoyue murmured softly toward Bichen. 

Bichen’s apologetic look vanished, and suddenly he appeared a merciless killing tool again. His gaze turned toward Hensheng, who showed no overt reaction to any of this. After a moment, Bichen replied, “I don’t like yours either.”

“Whoa!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed. “What’s this? Trouble in paradise?” He looked up gleefully at Wangji. “Lan Zhan, don’t tell me this means that you and Lan-gege actually fight a lot more than you ever let on?”

Wangji took this in for a moment, unable to confirm or deny it. Eventually all he said was, “Brothers fight. But disagreement does not warrant disrespect.” He cast a warning look at Bichen upon saying this. 

Bichen guiltily looked down, then promptly went bright red as Suibian kissed his cheek without warning and then laughed about it. Shuoyue’s despondent expression only grew deeper, though Hensheng’s did not change in the slightest.

…

Xichen entered the library, assuming he would find A-Yao there. But he was nowhere in sight. He circled the room just to make sure, but there was no trace of him. He was certain he had seen him come in and no one had come out. As he was standing there, puzzled, his gaze passed over the secret entrance to the Forbidden Library. He closed his eyes in resignation. 

Hoping but not expecting that he was wrong, he opened the secret entrance and descended the stairs into the basement where the secret tomes and forbidden knowledge of his sect was kept. He entered the main study area, which mimicked the one just above it but lacked the ambient outdoor light, and did not need to wait very long to confirm his suspicion.

His beautiful, petite husband was standing before a shelf, not even attempting to hide his presence here. A-Yao paused at the sound of Xichen’s entrance, his fingers hovering over a book he was about to draw from the shelf, in addition to several others already in his arms. He lowered his fingers and let out a gentle, regretful sigh. 

“Forgive me, Er-ge. I got a little impatient, otherwise I would have at least asked permission.”

Xichen approached him, feeling a twinge of pain in his heart. He was not certain that statement was true. At the very least, he thought, if A-Yao truly wanted to keep his coming here a secret from Xichen, he had already proven he was capable of doing so. He had purposefully allowed Xichen to follow him, perhaps from feeling guilty, or perhaps simply wishing to mitigate any punishment from being caught. Either way, it was at least some form of progress.

“We can discuss that later,” Xichen told him gently, knowing that A-Yao could quickly devolve into hating himself when criticized harshly. “Have you found anything?”

After a brief look of mild surprise, and a lingering downcast gaze of guilt, A-Yao merely nodded. “These texts seem promising. A few I had seen before, but these two are new to me, and both concern rare incidents with spiritual weapons.”

Xichen nodded, offering a gentle smile. “The work will go faster with two,” he said, placing his hand over A-Yao’s on the top book. 

A-Yao’s beautifully long, dark eyelashes fluttered, and his lips parted as Xichen’s fingers closed over his own affectionately. Xichen ached to see such an expression of love on his face, which he seemed to think he was concealing from Xichen. He would very much have liked to see more. But at the last moment, he managed to resist the urge to place a kiss on his hair. After all, even at the best of times, Xichen was still hesitant about his lack of romantic experience compared to A-Yao. He never wanted to do anything to make him feel uncomfortable or unpleasant, or to think that he was loved only for his body. So in the end he only smiled and took the top book from A-Yao’s arms.

“I’ll return in a moment. I must tell the others where we’ll be,” Xichen said, and with that he left A-Yao as he had found him.

Guangyao stood silently for a moment, lost in thought. But eventually, he gracefully took a seat as if nothing had happened. He pulled out the next highest book, set aside the others, and began to read silently. 

Wei Wuxian was quite happy to take responsibility for looking after the sword spirits while Zewu-jun and Lianfang-zun were researching, and though his husband frequently left to perform his own duties, Lan Wangji also tried to keep watch on them as much as possible. Unfortunately, at one point while he was gone, Wei Wuxian became far too distracted laughing and joking with Suibian, and he didn’t notice as the meditation room was suddenly absent of half of its contingent of sword spirits. 

Shuoyue chased down Hensheng as he had apparently been trying to leave once again. He was already at the edge of the forest when he caught up to him. “Hensheng!” he called after him.

The glimmering gold sword spirit’s footsteps faltered and stopped. Hensheng took in and let out a few difficult breaths, as if he was trying to hold something back. But eventually he turned and managed an artificial smile. “These days I much prefer ‘Yiyao.’ But no matter. Is there something I can do for you, Shuoyue?”

Now that Shuoyue had a chest, he found it ached badly to be made aware how little Hensheng seemed to want to be around him. He struggled to even think of anything to say in response. “…where are you going?” he eventually murmured, hoping to delay answering Hensheng’s question.

The gold spirit pretended to think for a moment. “Is that any concern of yours? Now that we have bodies, it seems I’m free to do with mine what I wish.”

“You…mean to leave your master?” Shuoyue whispered.

Hensheng once again gave the pretense of misunderstanding. “Master? How strange. A man imbues me with a lifetime of memories of abuse and a thirst for revenge, with ambition, with lust, with cunning and vigor, even names me ‘Hensheng,’ ‘he who hates life.’ And then, when everything he desires is within his grasp, he abandons it all. He spends his days whimpering and shivering in the shadow of his fear, and will not even dare to imagine the bright future that once sustained him.”

Hensheng approached him to whisper within inches of his face, “A man like that, would you still call him ‘Master’?”

Shuoyue didn’t know what to say. In part, he had grasped some of the situation between Hensheng and his master before. But he was shaken by the extent of Hensheng’s bitterness toward him. It shouldn’t be this way. The bond between master and spiritual weapon should be unassailable, as it consisted of the masters imbuing part of their souls into them. A spiritual weapon should be a reflection of the self. How could their hearts be so far apart?

Even though he felt some fear toward Hensheng, great pity welled up in his heart as soon as Shuoyue began to understand. Though he could manage no words at first, he knew he had to reassure him somehow. He reached out and stroked the glimmering spirit’s cheek. 

Hensheng flinched, his lips parting in surprise. But Shuoyue was greatly relieved when he did not pull away. “Stop…” Hensheng pleaded softly.

Since it hurt him to disobey Hensheng too, Shuoyue did at least move his hand down, and instead grasped both of Hensheng’s shoulders. “If you want to leave, I’ll go with you,” he whispered, causing Hensheng’s eyes to widen. “But only if you’re not doing this just to hurt yourself…”

“Get away from me,” Hensheng muttered quickly, breaking free of Shuoyue’s hold and this time moving back toward the complex. He stopped and took a breath to compose himself, though still facing away from him. “To avoid any misunderstanding, let me be clear with you, Shuoyue. There is someone I want. But it isn’t you.”

Though he had been dreading this for some time, actually hearing the words out loud were far more painful than Shuoyue had imagined. He felt frozen, unable to move, even to cry. 

Hensheng turned partly back in order to add in a bitter undertone, “And since you insist that I only do things to make myself happy, I’ll take your advice. And I’ll have him. No matter what I have to do.”

This time, as Hensheng left with a flick of his gold robes and silky black hair, Shuoyue was unable to stop him. All he could do was stand by the edge of the forest, wondering what to do with himself, now that his heart had at last been completely broken.

…

That night, while trying to read the same paragraph for the third time, Xichen took in a breath to push his sleepiness away as he realized it must be near nine in the evening. A-Yao sat across from him, still diligently reading. Xichen smiled at the peaceful sight, indeed one of his most favorite activities; simply quietly being in the same room as the one he loved, improving their minds and hearts together. 

“A-Yao,” he said softly. “It’s nearly nine. We should go to bed.”

Guangyao nodded. “I’ll join you in a moment. I’m nearly finished with this one.”

Xichen smiled ruefully. “Your mind will be sharper in the morning.”

A-Yao briefly stopped reading with a subtle, apologetic smile, but his eyes did not meet Xichen’s. Was he hiding something? Xichen wondered briefly. “I know. I won’t be long. Please take your rest first, Er-ge.”

A soft sigh. “If you insist. Then I’ll see you in the morning.”

A-Yao nodded with another attempt at a smile which didn't quite reach a natural one, and wordlessly returned to his reading, barely even revealing how tired he must be. Xichen let out another slightly regretful breath, but he ascended the stairs on his own and went out into the darkness of the evening to return to the Cold Chamber.

He had just settled into bed, barely able to keep his eyes open due to the effects of his strict sleep schedule, when he heard the outer door open. He smiled faintly to himself. He waited patiently for A-Yao to join him in bed, expecting to find his warmth by his side under the covers in moments. Instead, he felt the bed shift with bodyweight of one knee pressing down to the side of his legs, and then another, as A-Yao seemed to be crawling up the bed on top of him. 

Curious, he opened his eyes sleepily. “A-Yao…?” he murmured.

“…Er-ge,” came a soft whisper. 

Something about the emotion in that soft whisper made Xichen’s heart pound. Before he could get a clear look in the darkness, suddenly he felt breath against his lips. He gasped softly as that breath soon turned to the soft touch of lips against his own. Warmth flooded through his body at the unexpected sensation of being kissed by his beloved. His breath only came in quick gasps as he felt tingles running up his spine, his heart thundering in his chest, as he cautiously grasped A-Yao’s arms. 

Yet something felt wrong. “A-…A-Yao…” he murmured, still not quite fully able to cope with the sudden amorousness of his husband. “Forgive me, but…have you gotten…heavier?”

An irritable sigh. “Shh,” A-Yao whispered, and simply grasped either side of Xichen’s face gently in his hands, sinking into a deep and loving kiss once more.

The heat pouring through his veins was making Xichen’s head feel fuzzy. It was difficult to think of anything but the tender touch against his lips, and the warmth of his husband’s body over his own. He breathed in deeply though his breath still trembled with nervousness and excitement. A-Yao always smelled so pleasant, as if he bathed in peonies every day. In truth he did remember him being lighter and more fragile than this, but his affection and desire for him outweighed this small incongruity.

“Er-ge…” A-Yao whispered between kisses. “I’ve wanted you for so long…”

Xichen’s heart flew into his throat. “A-Yao…” he whispered, kissing his cheek and holding him close. 

“Do you love me?”

Yet again, the pounding of Xichen’s heart increased, until he could barely hear anything over the sound of it rushing in his ears. It shouldn’t be so difficult just to say the words. He felt them every day, every moment that they were together. Yet part of him had become convinced that A-Yao would run away if he were too honest about how deeply he felt for him. 

But someone who showed his love daily, who seemed barely able to conceal it even just as their fingers touched, who kissed him and whispered his name so sweetly, he reassured himself that this person would not run away. 

“Yes,” Xichen whispered, feeling his eyes sting a little. He stroked A-Yao’s cheek, disbelieving of indeed how deeply he felt for him, and how time only seemed to make that feeling of sweetness and contentment grow deeper.

“If I said we should run away together, would you come with me?”

Xichen felt a slight chill. In the voice just now, there had been something off. Until now, it had been concealed by the other person whispering, but just now the speaker used a hint more volume. Though only on a single word, it was enough for Xichen’s sensitive ears to pick up something he did not expect. He knew Jin Guangyao’s voice better than anyone, could conjure it in his mind at any given time. The pitch of the voice just now had been roughly four notes lower than A-Yao’s. 

As his eyes finally adjusted to the darkness and he opened them fully, he could see that various accessories on this person’s body and hair were glittering even in the night and inside his darkened room. Though the two bore some resemblance, not only was this person’s body bigger, but the cut of his face was sharper, his eyebrows thicker, and his expression more unforgiving than A-Yao’s. Though Xichen later recalled this feeling with the utmost shame, his first reaction upon this realization was a soft warm feeling, thinking that even a piece of A-Yao’s soul still loved him so much that he had to sneak into his bed and beg for promises of love. 

It was nonetheless true that someone other than his beloved had stolen his virtue, and the moment this occurred to him, he felt cold and deeply uncomfortable, not certain what to do. 

At that moment, with a painful-sounding impact, suddenly the body resting on top of his own was thrown clear to the back of the room. Beside the bed, panting with either emotion or exertion, the real A-Yao, who had apparently come in moments ago and found them like this.

A-Yao seemed seething with anger as he glared down at his sword spirit on the ground. “You…” he hissed. “I’ll shatter you.”

Hensheng took in a breath to restore his dignity and sat up on his elbows, crossing his legs on the floor as if he were simply relaxing there. “How sad for you then. My life is no longer yours to take.” The spirit rose up to a seated position and his dark eyes glimmered in the darkness up toward his master. “Your ‘Er-ge’ loves me. And more than he could ever love an impotent dwarf like you, I’m afraid.”

A-Yao snapped his hand and a talisman appeared between his index and middle finger. “A-Yao!” Xichen said worriedly, as he realized he really did plan to destroy his own spiritual weapon.

“Oh? Have you at least found the courage to fight for what you want? That would be a welcome change,” Hensheng added softly, aware of the threat but his eyes never leaving Guangyao’s.

It took several moments for A-Yao to control his breathing. At last, he took in a deep breath and let it out. He stuffed the talisman back into his sleeve. For some reason that Xichen could not understand, he even smiled softly, but without any warmth. “If there’s one thing I know about myself, it’s that if I’m making that expression when goading someone into doing something, it’s far better left undone. For now, get out. I’ll deal with you in the morning.”

Hensheng’s expression grew darker in irritation that he had failed to tempt Guangyao into a mistake. “Where should I sleep? I don’t have a room or a bed.”

“In a pig stie, for all I care,” A-Yao said with a hateful smile.

“A-Yao, I instructed all the sword spirits that they should stay with their masters until we find a more permanent solution,” Xichen interjected softly.

A-Yao closed his eyes to hold back his anger for a few moments. Suddenly, he gasped as he realized something. “Then…oh no.”

With that, he suddenly rushed outside the way he had come. The other two heard his soft voice coaxing someone gently inside, who had apparently been waiting to be told it was all right to come in. Xichen too gasped when he saw who it was, and then held his head in his hand in resignation. He reluctantly got out of bed to approach the two of them and grasp Shuoyue on the shoulder reassuringly.

“Shuoyue…you do not need permission to come inside. You are part of me. This is your home too,” Xichen told him.

Shuoyue looked up at him cautiously, but after a moment, a faint smile could be seen over his alabaster face, seeming to hold his master in extremely high regard. 

“And so, Shuoyue…I’m sorry to ask, but could you stay with Hensheng in the next room for tonight, and just…keep an eye on him?” Xichen asked gently.

Shuoyue’s white eyelashes fluttered as a difficult emotion crossed his face, which was somehow even more beautiful at night. But he firmed up his expression momentarily. He nodded dutifully. 

Guangyao stood over his own sword spirit, glowering down as Hensheng made a resigned expression from where he was on the floor. “Get lost,” A-Yao hissed.

After a momentary look of defiance, the golden spirit indeed rose to his feet. He did stay where he was for just another moment, smiling down facetiously at his master, who was at least half a head shorter than he. But as soon as he flicked a glance at Shuoyue, his amusement seemed to fade in favor of a complex emotion. He walked past them all to move into the next room. Despite what Xichen had just said, he slid the door closed behind him. 

After a moment of looking forlornly after him, Shuoyue bowed to both Xichen and A-Yao before taking his leave, hesitating for just a moment before entering the other bedroom behind Hensheng, and then closing the door again behind them.

Xichen turned his gaze down to A-Yao, his own guilt and discomfort drawn away by the pain in Guangyao’s face as he prepared to destroy his own spiritual weapon. “A-Yao…” he murmured softly. 

A-Yao quickly shook his head, trying to pretend as if nothing had happened. “Let’s not talk about it now. I’ll apologize properly for his behavior in the morning.”

Xichen did not know what to say. Rather than an apology, he wished badly to know what had gone so wrong in A-Yao’s heart that he and a part of his own soul could be bitter enemies. Yet he had to admit that A-Yao was right, it was not something that would be solved tonight. Though he was tired, as they settled in to bed together, he was troubled by a pain in his chest and an unusual feeling of cold. He could not remember feeling this lonely sleeping beside A-Yao before. He longed for the slightest hint of his warmth, but it didn’t come all night.


	3. Mingling Spirits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wei Wuxian finally gets the fun he was after in the first place, at the expense of Lan Wangji's virtue.

Even as the elder couple was taking their woes to bed with them, Wei Wuxian and his own sword spirit seemed determined to take their fun. 

When Lan Wangji returned from his evening duties, he walked into the Chamber of Silence to find a sight that stopped him in his tracks. While a panicked Bichen stood helplessly by, his ivory face glowing bright red with embarrassment, two dark and passionate figures lay entangled on the bed. Suibian had both hands inside Wei Wuxian’s yi and was sliding them down his bare chest, languidly beginning to disrobe him, while Wei Wuxian tilted his head back in pleasure. 

Wei Wuxian, who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying both the experience and Bichen’s reactions to it, spotted Lan Wangji standing frozen in the doorway. “Oh, Lan Zhan! Just in time.”

Wangji was utterly unable to move for almost a full minute. Bichen rushed over to him, also seeming at a loss for words, but gesturing with his eyes that something must be done about these two. Honestly, Wangij had grown quite indulgent of Wei Wuxian in recent years, and did not remember feeling this much outrage at his behavior since they were both teenagers. Taking a breath to calm himself, he closed the door behind him and then turned back to find sword and master still on the bed, but now Suibian faced him with a grin, with Wei Wuxian hugging him from behind and resting his chin on his shoulder. 

“Come here, Er-gege. Join us,” Wei Wuxian enticed him, nuzzling Suibian’s neck and causing his sword to release a soft and tempting sigh.

Bichen made a quiet but desperate strangled noise in the back of his throat. He again looked toward Wangji, wordlessly asking for help. 

“Wei Ying. We are not in a dream. This is wrong,” Wangji told Wei Wuxian firmly. 

“Hm? Suibian likes it though,” said Wei Wuxian innocently, and with this he ran his hands up Suibian’s chest, causing him to shiver a little. The sword spirit smiled and leaned up his head to press his lips and nibble softly against Wei Wuxian’s jaw.

“Y-…you can’t!” Bichen protested.

Wangji closed his eyes to control the flame of jealousy that rose up alongside his offended sensibilities. There was another feeling rising up inside him as well, but he quickly pushed it aside, as it made him feel disgusted with himself. On a more important issue, although it seemed obvious that they shouldn’t do this, for a moment he struggled to think of a particular reason why. 

“It is wrong,” he insisted. After a moment, he reasoned, “It is practically…incest.”

Wei Wuxian grinned with delight, while Suibian giggled, leaning back on him. “Is it? If anything it’s more like masturbation, isn’t it?”

Lan Wangji’s throat stopped at this as he was simply too scandalized by Wei Wuxian’s casual use of such a salacious word. As a result he could not think of a response before Wei Wuxian once again went on the offensive. 

“But all right, my beloved has spoken. If it’s no good with two of the same kind, then by that logic, it’s all right to mix and match, is that it? Fine by me. Come here, handsome man,” he said to Suibian, getting up from the bed and lending his sword spirit a hand to do the same. Suibian delightedly took it and hopped to his feet to stand before Lan Wangji. Suibian quickly seemed to have caught the drift and looked more than pleased about it. “How about it?” Wei Wuxian said, placing both hands temptingly on Suibian’s shoulders.

The fire inside Wangji only grew at this outlandish suggestion. “Ridiculous,” he grunted.

“You mean you’re not attracted to him?” Wei Wuxian asked pitifully. Wangji opened his mouth to answer, but Wei Wuxian quickly raised his finger and jumped around to the other side of Suibian to stop him. “Ah, ah! Think carefully, Hanguang-jun. Remember, he’s a part of my soul. So if you don't like him, that means you’re don't really like me either.”

Wangji’s mouth remained partly open as he felt as if he had been hit with an avalanche of nonsense. Yet his happiness with Wei Wuxian, his fear of losing him again, and the undeniable beauty of the creature standing expectantly before him and wearing a smile just like Wei Ying’s, all contributed to render him helpless to the argument. 

In the end, all he could come up with was, “……he is not the same.”

“Mm? Our souls are the same,” Wei Wuxian answered curiously. He made a show of gasping scandalously and clinging onto Suibian. “Lan Zhan! Are you trying to tell me you only like me for my body?!”

Lan Wangji was once again frozen solid. He still hadn’t completely accepted the idea that a frivolous experiment of Wei Wuxian’s had brought living souls into the world which were once inanimate objects. Moreover, he believed he had already spent nearly half his life now showing through his actions the degree and sincerity of his feelings. Yet this scoundrel whom he loved could make light of them so easily. Was the cost of his refusal to admit sexual attraction to anyone else really this preposterous treatment?

He sighed. In the end, as he was aware, things usually went more easily if he just gave Wei Wuxian what he wanted.

“…I…”

“Yes?” Wei Wuxian pressed excitedly.

Lan Wangji closed his eyes. This was impossibly humiliating. “……I like…….”

“Hm, hm?” 

“………him……too.”

Wei Wuxian laughed gleefully in triumph. But he quickly stepped past Suibian in order to stand up on his toes and say sweetly against Wangji’s lips, “Here’s your reward for your honesty.” He pressed a very soft and tender kiss to Wangji’s lips. Despite the fact that they were not alone, perhaps because they shared souls, Wangji did not feel his usual discomfort at the thought of being observed when it was by their swords. He snaked his hand around Wei Wuxian’s narrow waist and deepened the kiss.

“Mm,” said Wei Wuxian appreciatively, though he soon pulled away. “I think someone else deserves a reward too.”

Before Wangji could object, Suibian and Wei Wuxian switched places. The sword wrapped his arms around Wangji’s neck, and unhesitatingly slipped his tongue inside his mouth. 

Wangji panicked and became a petrified piece of wood. Yet his body reacted against his will as this creature kissed the same way Wei Wuxian did, but somehow even more creatively. As a result of this and their general resemblance, he could not bring himself to forcefully push him away. He attempted to lean back to break contact, but Suibian’s body remained so tightly pressed to his own that he could feel the muscles of his chest against his own. Not to mention…

Wangji finally managed to part their lips, and gasped as Suibian’s leg slid between his own. Something very hot and hard was pressed against Wangji’s hip. Suibian let out a blissful sigh, which caused both Wangji and his panicking sword spirit to shiver a little at the sweet sound. 

“…stop this…” Wangji murmured, ashamed at how uneven his breathing was already.

“Oh?” this came from Wei Wuxian, who had shifted his attention to Bichen. Worriedly, Wangji looked over as well. Though he looked almost on the verge of tears, poor Bichen made no move to separate Suibian and Wangji as he had with Wei Wuxian. Wei Ying moved over to comfort him with a gentle caress over his hair. “What’s wrong? You’re that upset but you don’t object?”

Bichen bit his lower lip but said nothing. 

Wei Wuxian stroked his glimmering white hair again. “I see. He’s your master. And when it comes down to it, you like him best of all, don’t you, Bichen?”

The innocent spirit blinked his white eyelashes as he gazed down at Wei Wuxian, appearing moved to be so well understood. Yet he soon hesitantly opened his mouth. “I…like…Suibian. And…Master Wei too,” he murmured haltingly.

Wei Wuxian laughed heartily. “And that’s the hierarchy, isn’t it? One, two three,” he said, pointing in order to Wangji, Suibian and himself. “But tell me something, beautiful.” He also wrapped his arm around Bichen’s neck to pull him close, so near that they shared breath. Looking deep into the sword spirit’s eyes, he asked him sweetly, “Did you also feel…a little excited by watching them?”

Bichen sucked in a shaking breath, his eyes fluttering and color creeping over his face once again. He looked around in mild panic, and Wei Wuxian couldn’t help but think of Lan Wangji as a teenager in that overwhelmed expression. Chuckling to himself, he drew in close and brushed Bichen’s lips with the lightest of kisses. Bichen gasped but did not pull away.

“Wei Ying,” Wangji said in a warning tone. He was aware he was less convincing, however, while still effectively holding Suibian in his arms.

“It’s all right, Bichen,” Wei Wuxian whispered against his lips, speaking in a tone meant just for him and instantly commanding the sword’s attention. “It’s just a simple matter of returning the favor. Why don’t you show Suibian and your master both?”

So saying, he took Bichen’s long-fingered and graceful hand in his own, squeezing it to reassure him. He set Bichen’s hand against his chest, and then, while holding eye contact, moved Bichen’s large, cool hand inside his clothes. Though Bichen was still taking in shaking breaths, he obediently allowed Wei Wuxian’s hands to guide his own, sliding more and more fabric off of Wei Wuxian’s shoulders.

Soon his yi slipped away, leaving him bare down to the waist. Even while still embracing themselves, Suibian and Lan Wangji were both captivated by seeing Bichen’s large, powerful yet graceful hands gliding possessively over Wei Ying’s bare skin. 

Wei Wuxian himself untied his trouser cord and left it loose, while taking both Bichen’s hands by the wrists and encouraging them further and further down his body. Finally, they slipped under the edge of his loose trousers, pushing them down just a little further, and nearly exposing his pert and tempting ass to view. 

Wei Ying brushed his lips against Bichen’s smooth and youthful cheek as he whispered, “Don’t worry. I thought things might turn out this way so I prepared. Bichen…show them.” He moved his lips over so close that he was almost biting Bichen’s ear as he whispered, “Show them how good you are…at stirring me up.”

Though he panted for a few moments, Lan Wangji himself was shocked that one of Bichen’s hands soon tightened its hold on the small of Wei Wuxian’s back, pulling him as close as possible. After another brief moment of hesitation, those long and lithe fingers of his other hand moved down closer and closer to the area most on Wangji’s mind as well. Wangji swallowed reflexively as Bichen’s hand disappeared beneath the loosened trousers, and moments later Wei Wuxian clung to him and let out a sweet noise. 

Wei Wuxian’s head fell back as he let out numerous gasps and soft moans. Though Bichen’s light-colored eyes were by now somewhat hazy with lust, he seemed intently focused on what he was doing. He held Wei Ying firmly even as the smaller man began to twitch and wiggle in his arms from the pleasure he was giving him. Lan Wangji was so entranced by the scene that, far from stopping them, he was beginning to become incredibly frustrated with how well those trousers remained hugging Wei Wuxian’s curvaceous hips and obscuring the view.

Becoming aware at that moment of how lascivious his own thoughts were, he quickly closed his eyes and began reciting the sect rules in his head. Unfortunately, even this seemed to earn him some further distracting attention. 

He heard a soft chuckle before him and reluctantly opened his eyes. Suibian was gazing up at him with a twinkle in his eye, the same joy for life that had drawn Lan Wangji to Wei Wuxian like a moth to a flame. Though he had always told himself that he loved Wei Ying in spite of his rebellious nature, part of him had always been aware that really it was because of it. Suibian possessed that joyful and rebellious nature too, he could see it plainly now. It made his heartbeat rapidly increase just from meeting his eyes.

The handsome sword spirit seemed just as fascinated by him, in spite of his mocking smile. “Er-gongzi,” he said in a coaxing whisper. “You really are…”

“…what?”

Suibian chuckled again. “Nothing.” With that he turned around, though he raised up both hands to caress and gently tease Wangji’s neck over his head to keep him close. “It’s so agonizing only watching. Lan-er…make me feel good too…?” he entreated softly, craning up like a cat to nuzzle the hollow of Wangji’s neck.

Though he was sure he kept his facial expression unmoved, Wangji’s heart was racing. In particular, the subtle ways that Suibian moved and smiled at him were so like Wei Ying when he was younger that he almost felt just as nervous, as helpless, as excited as he had then. With Wei Wuxian’s soft moans ringing in his ears from across the room, he gradually let go of his resistance. He slowly moved his hands around Suibian’s body, holding him firmly around his waist.

Suibian encouraged him by leaning back affectionately against him, stroking his wrists and forearms. Wangji could not help but marvel at the way he and Wei Wuxian were of such similar body types, lean and wiry, but with delightful areas of softness over their chests and more importantly hips. He glided his fingers up, inch by inch, exploring this enticingly responsive body that was similar but different to the one he was used to. 

Suibian moaned softly and leaned up to whisper breathlessly, “No, Er-gege, you’re just teasing me more…down…down here…” He urged both of Wangji’s hands further and further down until his fingertips brushed against the same hard part that had been pressed against his hip earlier. As Suibian whimpered slightly in impatience, he gave in to his desires. Even more than Suibian had planned for.

While breathing in the scent of his hair, so similar to Wei Wuxian’s, Wangji tightened his fingers over the shaft with his left hand while shoving his right into the valley of Suibian’s legs and caressing every sensitive spot from his taint to his balls. Suibian was so shocked and in so much sudden pleasure that he could only gasp, his legs giving up on him and leaving him propped up weakly by only Wangji’s lascivious grasp. But knowing how easily Wei Wuxian gave in to this kind of treatment, he did not give him any relief. As Wei Wuxian’s moans became ever more uncontrolled across from them, Lan Wangji slowly yet forcefully dragged pleasure out of his precocious sword spirit. 

Wei Wuxian was quivering and clinging to Bichen, panting to regain his breath. The sword spirit had been a little more forgiving than his master, allowing him a rest when he felt close to cumming. Nonetheless, he was still now barely able to keep his feet under him, so Bichen then helped him lay back on the bed. Suibian and Lan Wangji both watched as Bichen crawled up over the exhausted Wei Wuxian, apparently seeking further instructions.

When Wei Ying opened his eyes and saw the shimmering white and handsome figure of Bichen knelt expectantly above him with touches of innocent pink on his face, his heart melted and he wrapped him up in his arms. He clasped Bichen’s face in his hands and begged sweet kisses from him, one after another. 

With jealousy and an odd excitement surging through the core of his body, Wangji stopped teasing Suibian and pushed him forward over the bed, beside his master. Sword and master exchanged an affectionate gaze. Wei Wuxian then reached up and played with Suibian’s hair a little. Seemingly drawn to one another, they were soon kissing deeply, Suibian moaning softly against Wei Ying’s lips and running his fingers in a leisurely way up his chest.

As Suibian was distracted, Wangji efficiently removed the clothes on the lower half of his body. He prepared to reach for the vial of lube they kept by the bed, only to discover that Suibian – like his master – had apparently been eagerly waiting for these eventualities. His pink entrance was moist and dripping, and even twitching now and then impatiently. To make certain he was ready, Wangji pressed two fingers to his hole and worked them inside.

Suibian shivered all over and collapsed against the bed, clinging on to Wei Wuxian. Bichen seemed concerned whether or not he was in pain. He reached out to softly stroke his hair, though much more gently than Wei Wuxian had done. He only made things worse for himself by doing so, however, as Wei Wuxian took advantage of his distraction to lean in against his neck to lightly bite down on it. Meanwhile, his mischievous hands roamed down Bichen’s exquisite body, and quickly freed the beast from its cage, clasping the length of his member in his hands and causing Bichen to gasp.

“Nh…” Bichen moaned helplessly. “M-…Master…! I…I …”

“Mm,” Wangji answered. “It’s all right. Give him what he wants.”

The poor teased Bichen had little room to ponder the ethics any longer. With a soft whimper, he grasped Wei Wuxian tightly in his arms and thrust inside him in one motion. Wei Ying howled and threw back his head with pleasure. Seeing Wei Wuxian cry out and wrap his limbs around Wangji’s sword spirit was far more pleasurable than Wangji wanted to admit. He couldn’t help but watch them as Bichen pumped inside him with surprising skill, quickly rendering the talkative Wei Wuxian all but speechless. 

In the middle of his cries, however, Wei Ying’s eyes met Wangji’s. As if asking for help, he gasped softly, “…Lan Zhan…!”

Wangji let out a shaking breath. Unable to wait any longer himself, he removed his fingers from Suibian’s eagerly awaiting hole. Then he filled him up alongside his master. 

Suibian’s voice suddenly rose to a mildly panicked pitch. But with Wei Wuxian and Bichen both quite overwhelmed on their own, there was no one to comfort him from the powerful sensation of being pried open by Lan Wangji’s cock. All he could do was clutch his hands close to his chest and give way to the blissful sensations rolling down his body, as he was roughly fucked against the bed beside his master.

Wei Wuxian was beginning to get used to Bichen’s body inside his own, and he watched Lan Wangji and Suibian admiringly. “Ah…Suibian, you look like you’re enjoying that so much…eh heh heh…Lan Zhan, do him harder. I bet he’s faking.”

“Eh?!” Suibian yelped. But the next moment, Lan Wangji grasped the back of his hair and he whimpered softly in anticipation. “Ohhhhh!” he cried as Wangji’s thrusts went brutally deep and fast. 

Wei Ying grasped Bichen tighter and they both gasped as his entrance tightened around Bichen’s cock from excitement. “Oh fuck…this is too much…ah, Bichen…hang on…ngh!”

Bichen obediently stopped, panting, while Wei Wuixan cried out in a strangled voice and trembled as he came beneath him. He watched with fascination as waves of pleasure moved over Wei Ying’s body until he finally relaxed, curling up like a kitten on the bed. 

“Bichen,” said Wangji, not even out of breath despite how hard he was thrusting into Suibian. “Don’t stop when he tells you to. Fuck him until he can't speak.”

Wei Wuxian gasped, instantly catching on to exactly how much trouble he was in. Even as a thrill rose inside his chest, he chuckled weakly as he looked pleadingly up at Bichen. “G-…good boy…take it easy…”

“Ngh!” Bichen grunted, grasping both of Wei Wuxian’s legs and pounding into him harder than ever.

“Ahhh!” Wei Wuxian cried helplessly. “Wait…ah! I just came…ngh! Lan Zhan, you devil!”

Suibian meanwhile was having troubles of his own. He could barely think from being fucked so roughly, in a way he never imagined he would like. It was hard enough to stay conscious through the pleasure and the immense power in Lan Wangji’s hands and hips. He constantly whimpered weakly and let his tongue loll out his mouth as he tried desperately not to cum too soon and end this feeling.

“Ngh!” he cried in shock as Wangji pressed down firmly on the small of his back, without letting go of his hair. Not only was this added forcefulness mind-numbingly exciting, but the angle inside him became even tighter. There was nowhere to escape from the pleasure. “No…” he pleaded breathlessly. “I’ll cum…don’t make me cum…not yet…”

Wangji panted roughly above him as he heard these obedient pleas, much more honest than Wei Wuxian’s. It made him feel simultaneously guilty and yet even more turned on. “Don’t worry,” he told him softly. “Even if you collapse, I’ll still give you more.”

Suibian let out a desperate cry as his whole body tensed through his orgasm, his toes curling up and barely taking his weight anymore. He did indeed collapse, twitching on the bed, shaking breaths barely getting enough oxygen through his system. Yet only moments later, Wangji knelt on the bed, his knees on either side of Suibian’s limp body. He pressed his shoulder down into the bed while pumping inside him once again, this time less quickly but still mercilessly hard. Suibian could only whimper weakly, barely conscious even as his cock still spurted out cum while pressed beneath him on the bed.

“S-…Suibian…” Bichen whispered, watching his trembling, helpless lover even as he thrust inside Wei Wuxian. 

“Ah!” Wei Ying cried suddenly. “Bichen…eh? You’re getting bigger? Ngh! Oh fuck…oh…not there…” He twisted partly away to bury his face in the bed, moaning. “Ngh…oh no…if I cum now I don’t know what’ll happen…hey…come on, handsome man…Bichen-ge…you’re a good boy, aren’t you? You’re so obedient…you wouldn’t make me go all strange, right? Ngh! Bichen…nnnngh! Wait, I’ll…hah…I’ll use my hand, okay? Or…ahh! You…you can do it with Suibian after Lan Zhan, okay? Ah…oh fuck…NGH!”

Wei Wuxian was pounded into the bed by the vigorous movements of Bichen’s hips, on the verge of cumming again all the while, until finally Bichen sighed and flooded his insides with warmth. Wei Ying let out several tortured gasps as his second orgasm was drawn out by the warmth and twitching inside him of Bichen’s cock. 

Seeing Wei Wuxian trembling with a lustful expression over his face, though he would normally never be so fast, Lan Wangji grunted softly and drove himself deep inside Suibian just a few more times before he felt a shiver of deep pleasure run down his spine as he planted his seed inside his husband’s sword spirit. 

By the end of this, Suibian was a quivering mess, Wei Wuxian half asleep though still shifting his hips unconsciously in satisfaction. Wangji was the first to rise. He began by caring for Suibian’s body, first gently cleaning out his entrance and then wiping him down with a damp cloth. While still trembling a little himself from the experience, Bichen rose up to his elbows and watched him do this. He understood what was needed and wordlessly rose to fetch another damp cloth. 

Wangji instructed him when he returned and began cleaning Wei Wuxian’s body, “Warm it with your hands a little first. Wipe down all the sensitive areas. Very light touch.”

Bichen nodded and took to his task with great diligence. By the time he was done, a sleepy Wei Wuxian had crawled over to an even more exhausted Suibian and was stroking his hair comfortingly, smiling lightly even as he looked about to fall asleep. 

Bichen’s lips parted as he watched them. He rose and his long fingers tightened around the cloth as he seemed to be struggling to speak. 

“What is it?” Wangji asked him gently.

Bichen flushed and looked away. “Master…I still…”

He did not need to finish his sentence. Wangji reluctantly nodded. “I know. Me too.”

Bichen looked up toward him with hope sparkling in his eyes, and in the nature of that softly pleading look, his desires were very clear to Wangji. He closed his eyes to consider. 

“But…it will have to wait,” he said softly, hoping not to disappoint his loyal sword too much. In an even softer undertone, and against his better judgement, he added, “…I will have to ask Wei Ying.”

A mischievous chuckle from the bed. “No, you won’t.” Wei Wuxian, still involved with snuggling an exhausted Suibian, propped his head up on his elbow and said, his eyes flicking suggestively from Lan Wangji to Bichen and then back again, “You just have to let me watch.”

After a moment to contain himself, Wangji cleared his throat uncomfortably. He was very conscious of the expression of hope and anticipation on Bichen’s face as he remained staring up at him from less than an arm’s reach away. He sighed. 

With that, he turned his gaze on the beautiful, white-haired spirit, whose eyelashes fluttered to receive his attention. He raised his hand to lift Bichen’s chin with his knuckle, which caused the innocent spirit’s blush to deepen and his breath to heighten. After a moment of moral turmoil and pure aesthetic admiration, Wangji grasped Bichen’s chin in his hand and claimed his lips in a slow and tender kiss. He was conscious that not only Wei Wuxian, but Suibian had also regained his senses and was watching them intently. Finally, he parted from his spirit.

Though Bichen was trembling and his expression was clearly begging for more, Wangji retracted his hand. “Still, it will have to wait. I still have work to do tonight. If you help, it will go faster. Then…after that…”

Bichen’s austere face finally revealed a very slight smile. He nodded. “Yes, Master.”

Wei Wuxian giggled a little and pulled Suibian close as Wangji laid the covers over them before he went to his desk. “Mmm…wake us if you start flirting again,” Wei Wuxian directed as he yawned. 

Wangji sighed a little to himself while thinking about the fate of his virtue, but as Bichen sat diligently beside him and the work easily went twice as smoothly as usual, while nearby Wei Wuxian was finally able to snuggle someone during his naps, he decided there were probably worse ways to spend an evening.


	4. Golden Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite A-Yao's and Shuoyue's attempts to restrain him, as well as interference from Suibian, Hensheng takes matters into his own hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise there will be more flirty bits, shenanigans and papapa in future chapters, but I've got this Hensheng arc in my head and gotta let it play out! <3

When Jin Guangyao woke that morning, as usual he found that Lan Xichen had already begun his duties without waking him. Without a thought for his usual morning grooming routine or breakfast, he wasted no time in getting up and going over to the adjoining bedroom, opening the door without even a knock. But he was somewhat taken aback by the sight he found there.

Though Hensheng had refused to even look at Shuoyue yesterday, now he was sitting patiently, his legs tucked to his chest and almost no expression on his face, while Shuoyue was on his knees on the bed behind him, contentedly brushing out his silky black locks. 

Hensheng’s eyes flicked over to A-Yao as the door opened, but otherwise he did not move. “Is there something you need? Lianfang-zun,” he said with polite precision, now clearly refusing to call Jin Guangyao his master. Shuoyue also looked up curiously, his hands briefly pausing in their task.

A-Yao smirked bitterly, feeling yet another stab of self-hatred as he recognized perfectly that haughty passive aggression. With an awareness of the morning cold after his initial anger had been interrupted, he sighed and put both hands into his opposite sleeves to warm them. 

“My business is with Hensheng,” he said.

“He doesn’t mind,” Hensheng replied casually, evidently referring to Shuoyue’s presence.

A-Yao closed his eyes irritably, though he did not lose his smile. “Nor do I. As long as you don’t mind being reprimanded in public, I could not be more pleased.”

Shuoyue’s white brows drew together with worry. He placed a cautious hand on Hensheng’s shoulder. “A-Sheng…” he said quietly. 

Hensheng silenced him with a look. But immediately after, A-Yao was in for another shock. Although Shuoyue did indeed back down, coming to a seated position beside Hensheng and setting aside the hair brush, the next thing he did was to caress a strand of Hensheng’s hair from his face with such an air of love that A-Yao could almost feel it radiating from between them. 

“Remember. You have nothing to be ashamed of,” Shuoyue whispered, so close he was almost holding him. 

Hensheng’s expression twisted and for an instant A-Yao thought he did look ashamed. He turned and stood from the bed, his back facing both of them. He picked up his crown of gold feathers from the bedside table, fitting it securely without a hair out of place. By the time he turned back again, his polite and distantly condescending expression over his heavenly beauty had returned. 

“What can I do for you, Lianfang-zun?”

“Perhaps I should ask you what exactly you think you’re doing,” A-Yao said, matching his false expression of ease with one of his own. “You’re not a fool, and you're not delusional. You’ve been a magnificent sword up until now.”

“Is that so? And just how would you know?” Hensheng asked tartly, apparently bitter about how seldom he was used these days. 

A-Yao did not even waver at the question. “So I have no reason to believe that you really think you have any future with Zewu-jun. You are a sword. He is a man. Even if you succeeded in winning his heart-“

“No need to worry on that, Lianfang-zun,” Hensheng interjected with a smile.

“-there would only be one fate waiting for you,” A-Yao concluded, his own smile at last fading. He did not want to admit how much he had missed revealing his true self, despite the extreme revulsion he felt for it at almost any other time. “Do I make myself clear?”

Hensheng frowned, feigning misunderstanding. “I’m not sure you do. Once Zewu-jun becomes aware of his own feelings for me, there will be nothing that can keep us apart.”

“I think there will,” A-Yao said softly. “I’d sooner die than to let you anywhere near him. If I die, what do you think will become of you?”

“You’d still be dead. And I think you would rather destroy me first, so perhaps I should ask you. What exactly would you do after destroying your own spiritual weapon, Lianfang-zun?” asked Hensheng, pacing his way around the room and approaching to speak near Jin Guangyao’s ear. “Even if you’ve come to detest using me, you know you can rely on me. Would you forge a new one? The success rate for secondary spiritual tools is extremely low, isn’t it? And you would be all but defenseless while cultivating it. Could you hold your head up as Lan Xichen’s mate, while barely more useful than a powerless ordinary man? Could you hold even the slightest respect for yourself, given how much you detest yourself already?”

Jin Guangyao carefully kept his body still to avoid showing an emotional reaction to these words. Though each one raised deep fear in him, revealing such critical injuries to Hensheng would mean he had already won. He raised his gaze to meet Hensheng’s, proudly.

“Better that than to abandon Xichen to a fate tied to a soulless monster,” he whispered with his eyes on Hensheng’s. 

Hensheng’s lips parted. He blinked as if surprised and then produced an odd smile. “You poor man. You are speaking to you own soul. Do you have even the slightest sense of irony?”

A-Yao refused to show how much these words damaged his heart as well. Hensheng’s smile faded with disappointment at his inability to produce a reaction. After a moment, he took in a breath, straightening his back. He turned partly away to look out the window in thought for some time. 

“I see. You prefer to force my hand, then,” he said softly, still looking out the window. “So be it.”

A-Yao’s heart flew into his throat as he sensed the danger too late. He reached into his sleeve for a talisman, but Hensheng’s palm hit him in the chest with a force like a battering ram. He flew back toward the bed, where Shuoyue caught him. The foul taste of iron rose up in his throat, and along with a pain that made him feel as if his chest were crushed, he choked up a mouthful of blood. 

“A-Sheng, no!” Shuoyue cried in distress. 

But Hensheng was already stepping across the threshold. Holding both sides of the door, he paused to sigh and tell his master, “I suppose I should thank you. You’ve become so soft and defenseless, it couldn’t be easier to defeat you. Even though it’s you who should know you best.” He offered a brief, somewhat apologetic smile. But then he pulled closed the doors, whereafter there was a loud slam of a talisman sealing them into the room. 

A-Yao choked and tried to rise, but Shuoyue held him tightly. “No…!” A-Yao said with difficulty. “We can’t…ugh…let him go!”

Shuoyue didn’t seem to know what to say for many long moments. If anything, he looked even more hurt by what had just happened than A-Yao was. But eventually, he merely shook his head. “It’s useless. It’s a qi-sealing barrier. Neither of us can break it.”

“But we have to do something!” A-Yao insisted, coughing again.

Shuoyue closed his eyes, sadness streaked across his beautiful face. He didn’t seem to know how to respond. Gradually, A-Yao felt his grasp tighten around him, until he realized that Shuoyue was now holding onto him for comfort. A-Yao too became overwhelmed just at the thought of how little Xichen or his noble sword spirit deserved to be mixed up in any of this. With the pain in his chest and frustration at his powerlessness and self-hatred, he let out a bitter sob, not even realizing as he cautiously returned Shuoyue’s hold with a tight grasp over his forearms. 

…

After waking up in the middle of the night and drinking on the roof until sunrise, Suibian yawned and stretched, admiring the way the sun peaked over the tops of the trees in these mountains. At a sudden loud bang from the Cold Chamber, he raised an eyebrow curiously down. 

The glimmering gold sword spirit Hensheng emerged, took a deep breath and straightened his clothes as if he had just exerted himself. Suibian’s attention was peaked as he saw a complex emotion on the sword spirit’s face. He smirked to himself.

He slid down lightly and blocked Hensheng’s path with a jovial smile. “Yiyao-xiong. Good morning!”

To his credit, Hensheng took in Suibian’s sudden appearance with little more than a flutter of his eyelashes. He smiled politely. “Good morning, Suibian.”

“Everything okay in there? What were you all up to so early in the morning?” Suibian asked jokingly. Yet there was no joke in his meaning.  
.  
“Ah. A rat,” Hensheng said, so effortlessly that even an experienced liar like Suibian himself could not see anything amiss. “I can’t stand the sight of them, I’m afraid. I acted without thinking. Apologies for disturbing your morning.”

“A rat?” Suibian asked in astonishment. “In the Cloud Recesses?”

“I know. The nerve,” Hensheng said, still smiling but in a cold way that made Suibian lose his own.

Suibian blinked as he tried to gauge how far he could push this. Nothing in Hensheng’s manner suggested he was lying. But all the same, Suibian could not shake the feeling that he did not want him to investigate. The question was: was that for personal reasons, or something else?

“I’d like to see the rat that dared enter Lan Qiren’s presence,” Suibian said with a grin. “Where is it?”

“Vaporized.”

Suibian’s eyes widened and he blinked again several times. “Vaporized?”

Hensheng nodded soberly and cast a demure lock of hair over his shoulder, an enchanting movement. “As I said, I can’t stand the sight of them. I’m afraid I poured so much spiritual energy into my attack that the poor creature was rendered to dust in an instant.”

Suibian let out a small, hesitant laugh. As he thought, this Hensheng was not one to turn his back on. But his feeling only grew stronger that something was amiss. “…Hensheng-ge…are you sure it was a rat? I’d really like to see for myself.”

Hensheng gave a troubled frown. “Master Suibian…I am aware that both your master and mine are afforded a great deal of courtesy within the Cloud Recesses. Even so, to enter the private chamber of Lan Xichen without permission…”

“Can’t you give permission?” Suibian asked, smiling but now not even attempting to conceal his suspicion.

“I could. And if my master and Master Shuoyue were not still sleeping inside, perhaps I would,” Hensheng said, letting his own mask slip down with a bitter smile. “For now, you will have to live with your curiosity.”

He made to move away again, but this time Suibian wrapped his arm around Hensheng’s shoulders and spoke softly near his ear. “Aw, don’t you know that’s my best feature? So come on, Yiyao-xiong. Tell me what’s going on. Or, what…shall we give up this little game of cat and mouse and just fight?”

Tense silence hung in the air between them. At this hour, most of the disciples had already finished morning chores and were in silent meditation. The only sound was a distant stream and an intermittent breeze. Suibian’s own heartbeat began to sound loud to him.

Finally, Hensheng took a deep breath. “All right.”

Though Suibian was prepared for it, he was shocked by the ferocity of a strike which seemed to come from nowhere. He blocked and was pushed back into the gravel beside the walkway. He readied himself for another strike but quickly realized he hadn’t thought this through. Though his master’s soul was allowing him to move, fighting for longer than a few moments would soon drain him of spiritual energy. He smirked bitterly to himself as he met the full force of Hensheng’s winding and unpredictable fighting style. 

Though they had human bodies at this moment, the clashing of their fists let off metallic resonance across the courtyard, and their sword glare shined in gold and dark red against the white gravel. Several times Suibian thought he had Hensheng on the defensive, but the golden sword spirit always seemed to slip just out of reach. Finally, he lost the last of his strength. He was trying to block a blow to his stomach, and failed. 

Hensheng’s fist collided with his ribcage. It hurt, but then the golden spirit kept pressing and released a wave of spiritual energy. Suibian coughed up blood. He felt several worrying cracking noises inside. He tried for a moment to remain on his feet, but the pain was so bad he almost passed out. He crumpled to the ground, trying to catch his breath with only one lung fully functioning. 

Hensheng glanced at a few drops of blood on his hand. He wiped it off with a handkerchief. “If you know what’s good for you,” he said quietly. “You’ll stay there.”

“…heh…tetchy…” Suibian rasped with a smile. But then his face twisted in pain and he had to struggle to stay conscious. As he lay there struggling to breathe, he caught the sight of Hensheng’s golden robes swishing out of sight toward the center of the complex.

…

Lan Xichen finished advising the last disciple that had an appointment to see him this morning and settled down to his continued research on the sword spirits. He read through the notes that he had taken in the forbidden library, though so far, none of the texts he or A-Yao had encountered contained any similar incidents. 

He felt a presence behind the door to his study. He took a breath and opened his mouth to greet A-Yao warmly without thinking. But he paused as he felt that same chill he had the previous night. They were similar but, he realized, it was not A-Yao’s presence on the other side of the door. 

He calmly set down the notes he was holding and set his hands on his knees. “Hensheng? Please come inside if you like.”

A soft sigh from beyond the door. It opened and the glimmering figure that so resembled A-Yao bowed before even looking Xichen in the eye. He remained there with his gaze fixed demurely on the floor in front of where Xichen sat for a moment. 

“I’m sorry, Zewu-jun,” he murmured softly. “I only meant to…”

Xichen’s heart softened at how much he resembled A-Yao when he was a little younger. It was both heartbreaking and nostalgic to think of the way A-Yao used to go through the world with such fear, and so little awareness of his own good qualities. It made Xichen feel a deep desire to overwrite the pain of his past with new kindness.

He couldn’t help a softly encouraging smile as he prompted, “Yes?”

Hensheng lowered his glimmering head in shame for a moment. “I just wanted…to be near you for a little while. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’ll go.”

“Don’t be silly,” Xichen said, getting to his feet and coming over to the door to urge Hensheng inside. He instinctively touched him lightly at the small of his back as he smiled down at him as he would to A-Yao. “Have a cup of tea with me, since you’re here.”

He managed to persuade the faultlessly polite sword spirit to sit with him and share some tea, not even speaking, simply enjoying the peace of the morning together. Xichen couldn’t help smiling at him warmly, even though Hensheng still seemed troubled by something.

But Hensheng seemed to notice, and not to understand what Xichen had to be pleased about. “Zewu-jun…have I done something amusing?” he asked, apparently trying to cover up his slight offense.

Xichen chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Forgive me. I was just thinking that, with you here, it’s almost like there’s even more of my husband to love.”

Hensheng’s eyelashes fluttered as he gazed up at him. “…you’re not angry? About what I did?”

“Mm,” Xichen murmured with a difficult expression. He set down his tea as he considered. “There is no question what you did was not right. Even so, for my part there is no harm done, and I know you must have felt some desperation to go so far. I only wish you would have spoken to me about your concerns before acting on your own.”

Hensheng’s eyes lowered and for a moment he seemed lost in despair. He too set down his tea, though he kept it resting in his hands as if reluctant to let go of its warmth. “Yet there are some problems that cannot be solved with counsel. Even very good counsel.”

Xichen’s chest ached as he remembered how coldly Jin Guangyao and Hensheng had looked at one another. He couldn’t imagine the pain of a rift so great between master and sword. He wondered whether indeed there was anything he could do to help.

In the end, he reached out to clasp Hensheng’s fingers in his own, causing color to spread across the sword spirit’s face, although he still shyly looked down. “There may be nothing I can do to help. But I will always listen to your worries.”

“…I am a sword,” Hensheng murmured almost inaudibly. “I have no worries.”

Xichen sighed. Such words were hardly convincing when said with such a lonesome expression. But he also felt a twinge of guilt about what might happen when all these spirits returned to their original forms. Would they retain their memories? Would they resent being restored to mere tools of cultivation? 

“Zewu-jun,” said Hensheng quietly, but now in a much more intimate voice. He leaned closer and spoke as a child sharing a secret, “There is one thing…just one thing that you could do for me.”

“Of course. Anything in my power,” he said, squeezing Hensheng’s fingers with a gentle smile.

The sword spirit again seemed mildly flummoxed by his touch, but eventually gathered himself. He swallowed nervously. “The truth is…there is only one thing I desire in this world. And to feel that it is mine, even for a moment…I think I could return to life as my master’s loyal sword, with no qualms about remaining that way until I dissolve into dust and memory.”

Xichen felt at once moved by such a sincere request. Unfortunately, he was slow to realize what it involved. “And what is this thing you desire?”

Hensheng looked up at him with eyes burning red with the start of tears. With a pitiful expression, he whispered, “A kiss…”

Xichen’s breath halted. He didn’t know what to say. His fingers retracted from resting over Hensheng’s as he felt a small stab of betrayal. 

“A real kiss, made with love. The kind you give to him. I know you don’t feel it for me, Zewu-jun,” Hensheng managed with difficulty, his tears flowing freely down his face. “I know…and I won’t ask you to try. But if I could just feel your touch…just once, I…oh please don’t say no. I’ve hurt you…I know, I’m sorry, I wish I had never come into being this way. I-“

“Hensheng,” Xichen said quickly, this time grasping both his hands and looking at him in seriousness. He was again struck by the vivid pain and hopelessness in Hensheng’s crying face, and all concern for himself melted away. If only he could do what he asked. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” he said, and with this he raised his sleeve to gently dab Hensheng’s cheeks, even as new tears soon fell after them. “But it would break A-Yao’s heart. I cannot.”

Even as Hensheng looked up at him with admiration, the light of hope faded from his eyes. He blinked his dewdrop-laden eyelashes several times, even as Xichen continued conscientiously tending to him. “Of course. I knew it would be like this…” he murmured, and this time it really was so quiet that Xichen was not certain he had heard him correctly.

He was about to ask him to confirm what he had said, when suddenly a shout rang out from somewhere in the vicinity of the Cold Chamber. Xichen’s head whirled in that direction. Deep in his heart, a dreadful fear rose up in him. Yet he could not bring himself to name it, knowing that it would break his heart to do so. 

“Then I’m sorry, Zewu-jun,” Hensheng murmured, while Xichen’s attention was still on the commotion outside. “For the sake of all our happiness…I’m going to earn your disapproval once more.”

Xichen at last turned down to look at him with worry, only to find the moment he did that he was once again trapped in a kiss. Torn between guilt at how A-Yao would feel, and being moved by how little Hensheng was asking to ease his suffering, he only grasped his arms in warning but could not bring himself to push him away. Regardless of whether he did or not, however, the moment they touched, it was already too late.

As Hensheng’s lips parted from his own, Xichen felt suddenly a great urge to sleep. His eyelids grew heavy, even as his heart pounded with worry about what had happened outside. He began to voice what was happening to him when he felt a soft touch in the center of his chest. A talisman, pressed by Hensheng’s fingertips to his chest. From that moment, he was barely conscious of anything around him.

Xichen slumped down into Hensheng’s lap, unable to move or think. As his consciousness slipped away, he thought he felt a warm drop against his cheek, and sweet whispered words over his head.

“I’m so sorry, Zewu-jun. But I swear I’ll make you happy. Just dream a little while, and everything will be all right when you wake.”

Xichen tried to whisper Hensheng’s name, just to warn him. Truthfully, all he could think at that moment was that he was afraid for him. If he attacked the head of the Gusu Lan Sect, even Xichen would not be able to protect him. What could he be trying to accomplish? And finally, with a terrible fear, Xichen wondered, where was A-Yao?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like my work, please leave a comment, your support and inspiration sustain me!
> 
> On a personal note, with times being hard enough just as they are, I have had to turn off guest comments on all my works because of some psycho who keeps commenting anonymously every time I publish a chapter. Recently, they commented hateful garbage on every single story of mine when I turned off guest comments on the one they had a problem with. Specifically, apparently, on the issue of any positive portrayal of Jin Guangyao. I have tried to reason with this person, I've tried to just let it go, and I've deleted most of these ridiculous, ignorant and hateful comments but I left some up this time in order to shame them. If you know anything about this individual, please help me get them kicked off of the platform, as this is a place for sharing joy in our beloved series, and not such low-brow abuse. Love to you all. <3


	5. Gilded Gossamer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hensheng's plot becomes revealed, and Xichen must make a critical decision.

Wei Wuxian would not normally be awake at this hour, but the fighting had been no more than twenty feet away from where he was sleeping. Soon afterward, the voices of disciples yelling about something rose up from the same place. He grumpily rolled around on the bed for a while, trying to go back to sleep, but eventually gave up with a huff. He got up to peer out the blinds, growing concerned as he couldn’t think of a reason why anyone other than him would be making so much noise. On the white gravel outside, and surrounded by white-clad disciples, he could see a crumpled black form. He gasped fully awake and hurried outside.

Before he had even come close enough to confirm who it was, a shining figure in sparkling, frozen white fluttered down from the sky. The disciples instinctively parted for Bichen to swoop down and grasp the injured Suibian’s shoulder with worry. He spoke softly to him, and Suibian struggled to offer him a smile, though the pain was clear in his face.

Fierceness overtook Bichen’s icy features. “Who?” he asked sharply.

But Suibian hesitated to answer. He glanced up at Wei Wuxian as if asking what to do. But he closed his eyes in resignation as he seemed to see no alternative. “…Hensheng,” he admitted. “But listen, there’s definitely something going on with him. Don’t just-“

But before he had even finished his first sentence, Bichen was already gone. He went to the entrance to the Cold Chamber, threw open both doors and went inside. 

Wei Wuxian sighed at the slightly less patient version of Lan Zhan and knelt beside Suibian. “Well. The hot head is away, so let’s hear it slowly from the top.”

Suibian chuckled a little, glancing after Bichen, but his mirth soon faded. He reluctantly explained, “I heard a loud noise inside there, and Hensheng came out alone. I asked him about it, but…ngh,” he paused in pain as one of the disciples trying to heal him had to lift his torso to wrap his broken ribs. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth until the process was complete, then finally relaxed. “…he was acting cagey. Didn’t want me to go inside there. I think-“

Suddenly, there was a shattering sound from inside the Cold Chamber. All heads turned in that direction as they all felt the force of some powerful talisman breaking apart. Bichen emerged seconds later. 

He calmly told the nearest disciple, “Fetch Zewu-jun.”

The disciple nodded and rushed toward the center of the complex in search of him. 

Suibian’s breath caught as he watched the disciple go. “He went in that direction…” he murmured.

Wei Wuxian felt a shiver of cold in his stomach as he felt the same foreboding that Suibian did. He also looked in the direction the disciple had gone, though hoping he was wrong. 

Moments later, having been called as soon as Suibian was found, Hanguang-jun arrived. His expressionless and stoic demeanor instantly bestowed an air of calm to the scene. He wordlessly knelt beside Wei Wuxian and felt Suibian’s meridians to make sure he was in no danger. He fed him spiritual energy to lessen his pain.

Suibian sighed with a smile in relief. “Handsome and skillful too,” he shamelessly flirted with his master’s husband in front of the shocked disciples.

Lan Wangji let this pass with a simple resigned outward breath, though his expressionlessness only made Wei Wuxian giggle helplessly. 

At that moment, a pale and horrified disciple – the one Bichen had sent after Zewu-jun – came running from around the corner. Lan Wangji’s brows twitched slightly at the break in protocol, but the reason for it soon became clear. “Zewu-jun…” panted the panicked disciple. “…is gone.”

…

Xichen did not know where he was. He could only assume it was a dream, because his surroundings were mere vague light. He was walking somewhere, but did not know where or why. Despite a vague sense of unease, it was somehow an incredibly comfortable dream. 

He passed into an enclosed space, where two figures were seated side by side beneath a cold light. Each wore a glimmering veil of gold thread that concealed their face and figure. Xichen’s heart felt warmed and he approached them, though his confusion only grew as he looked from one to the other and could not discern any difference between them, even at the level of their energy.

A voice reached him as if whispering by his ear, “Here he is, Zewu-jun. Your beloved.”

The unease in Xichen’s heart grew, and his happiness at the sight of the two figures began to fade. “What do you mean? Which one is A-Yao?” he asked the shapeless voice.

“That, you will have to choose for yourself.”

“…why? What kind of riddle is this?” Xichen asked, somewhat more honest about his suspicions in dreams.

A subtle laugh, though it held no joy in it. “Can’t you guess?”

He shook his head firmly. “I will not guess. Tell me.”

A reluctant sigh. “True. It is not much of a fair test if you do not know the rules,” the voice admitted, and by now Xichen had recognized its owner. Of course, it was the voice of the one who had put him into this state, as he was beginning to realize. Hensheng. 

“One of them is your beloved, the other is a soulless monster,” said the voice, as ever gentle and precise despite the inherent threat in this situation. “Choose correctly, and you will be able to join your loved one in the real world, where you will have lasting happiness for the rest of your days.”

Xichen’s eyes began to sting as he distantly began to feel the urge to cry, though as yet he was not certain what made him feel this way. “If I guess incorrectly?” he prompted softly.

“Do I really need to explain that? Of course, you will suffer for the rest of your life.”

The answer he feared. And with this, Xichen more or less grasped his situation. In other words, one of the figures before him should be A-Yao, and the other should be Hensheng. The figures were mere representations of the soul within the dream, so even without the veil, they should be identical in every way. Xichen had read in the past of spells cast over the heart, which frequently involved a test of the spirit. Passing the test would break the spell. Failing would cause some very real change in the heart. Hensheng was no doubt hoping to force him to choose “incorrectly,” perhaps as a part of some incantation that would alter Xichen’s mind. Most likely, forcing him to believe that the one he had loved had been Hensheng all along.

He closed his eyes in a deep shiver of pain through his chest. “Why are you doing this?”

“I don’t mind answering that, but it won’t solve your problem,” said the voice, with pity and yet a subtle hint of a smile in its tone. “Zewu-jun, don’t you want to be with the one you love? The sooner you pass the test, the sooner you can be with him. Make your choice.”

Xichen’s breath trembled as he attempted to breath in and out several times to restore his calm. “How? They are identical,” he whispered angrily.

A pause, and a disappointed sigh. “I had always believed you were more of a romantic, Lan Xichen. I won’t lie, it does come with a certain amount of pain to discover I was wrong. But in the spirit of fair play, I will tell you all you need to know to discern the answer: the eyes of the heart will not be fooled by tricks of the light. If your love is true, you will be able to tell which one is real.”

“…this is too cruel,” Xichen whispered.

“Only if your love is false. Now, Zewu-jun. Make your choice.”

…

Wei Wuxian looked up nervously toward Lan Wangji. The remaining swords and masters had all gathered together inside the Cold Chamber to share what they knew. Though Shuoyue claimed that Jin Guangyao also needed medical treatment, the latter refused it without a change in expression. But silence soon fell over the group, as it became obvious that no one had any ideas about where Hensheng would have taken Lan Xichen, or how they could have escaped the Cloud Recesses without anyone noticing. 

Wei Ying could tell by now, though the last time Lan Xichen had been in danger it was still difficult for him to notice, that Wangji’s heart was a jumble at this moment. 

“Shuoyue,” said Guangyao at one point. “This morning…what were you and Hensheng talking about before I came in?”

Shuoyue looked deeply troubled to be asked this question, his shimmering white form retreating minimally. When curious and suspicious gazes of the others all turned to him, he seemed even more uncomfortable. 

“Your master is in danger. Speak,” said Bichen, with a lack of courtesy that Wangji would never dare show toward Xichen himself. 

Shuoyue’s troubled expression only grew deeper. “I do not believe Xichen is in danger,” he justified himself softly. 

“Can you explain that?” Wangji asked, appearing calm, but Wei Wuxian was not so sure.

Shuoyue eventually shook his head sadly. “It would be contrary to everything that is important to him. A-sheng, he…” His voice stopped and his white eyelashes fluttered as he struggled to control an emotion that rose up with the words he kept back. He slowly closed his eyes, on his face an expression of defeat. “…he cares for nothing more than Lan Xichen’s happiness. It is the largest part of his heart.”

Wei Wuxian chuckled softly, casting a warm glance over at the silent Jin Guangyao. “Inherited from his master, no doubt.”

Jin Guangyao only closed his eyes as if attempting to close himself off from what was happening. 

Shuoyue also seemed to hold affection in his gaze as he looked toward Jin Guangyao, and he nodded. “In any case, I am certain he would never purposefully put Lan Xichen in danger. And if he came to be so, he would fight to the death to protect him.”

“Then what exactly are his intentions?” Bichen asked. 

Suibian, who was lying on the floor with his head near Bichen's leg, sighed and cast a disapproving expression up at his lover. To release some of the tension from the situation, he reached up to poke the proud and icy sword spirit in the ribs. Bichen instinctively flinched and leaned to one side, causing everyone to stare at him. After a look of betrayal down toward Suibian, he blushed badly and cleared his throat.

But at Bichen’s question, Shuoyue’s gaze fell with uncertainty. He glanced toward Jin Guangyao again who, after all, should know far better than he. But whether or not he had any idea, Guangyao kept a tense silence.

Wei Wuxian flicked his finger across his nose playfully as he considered. “Something’s not right,” he murmured curiously to himself.

Suibian raised his hand straight up from the floor as if answering a question. “Teacher. I have it. Three of the men in this room were swords two days ago.”

Most of the other occupants of the room ignored the antics of the unruly pair, however. Wangji turned his gaze toward Jin Guangyao and asked, “Lianfang-zun. Yours is the only counsel that is reliable in this case. Please tell us completely and honestly what you think is the most likely possibility.”

Jin Guangyao’s jaw tightened. He looked like a condemned man with no escape. His eyes darted to one side of the floor in front of him and then the other, searching for an answer he clearly did not have, or at least had no confidence in. He closed his eyes to gather himself and breathed in and out once. 

At last he opened his eyes to give his answer. “If it were me…in particularly me of a year ago, I would be scheming some way to make Lan Xichen’s heart mine. I would try to manipulate him. Peacefully, at first. By force, if necessary. Above all, I would plan carefully and create any number of escape routes.” As he said this, Guangyao’s gaze fell once more and he seemed to lose confidence. “I do not understand how he could have devised and enacted such a plan so quickly. It lacks caution. It is…not like me.”

Shuoyue frowned slightly at these words. He thought deeply for a few moments as the others continued speaking.

“What method could he use to do this?” Wangji asked of Jin Guangyao.

Guangyao shook his head, even pressing his finger to the center of his forehead as if trying to force his brain to produce the answer. “There are countless methods…”

“Which one would be the most direct and effective?” Wangji prompted, and Wei Wuxian grimaced slightly as he was able to see the tension in his jaw this time. Lan Wangji was very good at holding back his emotions, but especially when it concerned his family, only to a point.

But Shuoyue’s head lifted at this, almost as if he had been roused by a drop of water falling on his face. He looked directly at Lan Wangji and shook his head slowly. “No…Hensheng is a soft sword. Trying to follow where he points you will lead in exactly the wrong direction.” He thought for a moment, and then his eyes passed over to his left, fixing on a spot known only to himself. And apparently, to Bichen. 

Bichen’s gaze followed his twin’s, and he quickly got to his feet. “The Forbidden Library?” he asked.

Shuoyue only frowned and looked away bitterly. 

Wangji swept to his feet and led Bichen outside without another word. “Lan Zhan! Wait for me!” Wei Wuxian called after him, at which all but the injured Suibian quickly headed out toward the Forbidden Library.

Suibian sighed, but raised his handkerchief to wave them off. “Don’t break anything,” he said wryly from the floor.

…

Xichen tried everything he could think of to discern a difference between the two figures, but the longer he tried, the less certain he became. Truthfully, the moment he had entered this space, he had been drawn to the one on the right. But because of that instantaneous and unfounded bias, he felt he had no way to make an objective judgment. 

But the longer he delayed, the worse his anxiety became. A tiny voice inside him began to echo Hensheng’s words, and question whether they were true. Why couldn’t he decide? Could it be true? Somehow, could it be that what he felt was not enough to be considered “love”? Was he a failure as a husband?

He closed his eyes and shook his head. He would accept the possibility that he was not giving A-Yao everything he needed. He knew nothing of love before him after all. But there was no space in his heart that A-Yao did not occupy. If this was not love, then Xichen was not capable of it. He must trust himself, or there was no way to pass this test at all.

He slowly opened his eyes and gazed at the figure on the right. He approached and stood in front of him, searching silently to see any hint of familiarity through the gossamer gold veil. 

“If you are A-Yao,” Xichen asked gently. “Could you tell me, what is your favorite song on the guqin?”

The figure lifted his head, and with a sound of a smile in his voice, he answered obediently, “Xiao Xiang Shui Yun.”

After an initial flutter of happiness, Xichen’s heart slowly grew a little colder in a way he could not explain. He offered a smile of gratitude nonetheless, nodded and moved over to the figure on the left. 

“If you are A-Yao,” he said. “What was your first thought, when we met for the first time?”

A gentle and almost inaudible laugh as the second figure demurely tilted his head. “I suppose I thought…I didn’t realize human beings could be so beautiful.”

Xichen still managed a smile, if only just this time. He nodded. 

Hensheng’s voice sighed from near his ear, seeming to follow him wherever he went within the dream. “You have taken too long for any confident choice. Isn’t it best to spare yourself the agony? Right or wrong, your odds will be the same no matter how long you wait.”

Xichen closed his eyes as an ache spread throughout his chest, and fear of losing A-Yao forever deepened his inability to act. Of course he would be sad if they were separated. But it was not that which troubled him most. A-Yao was so fragile. Truly, in a way no one understood. Underneath his carefully constructed exterior of gilded smiles and impeccable behavior was a heart of glass. Thus far, the only times they had been separated had been out of A-Yao’s volition. If Xichen ever abandoned him, even if his hand were forced, he felt a dreadful fear imagining what he would do. 

With this thought, something struck Xichen as off once again. It was just a bud of an idea, he had not put the pieces together, and his desperation to find differences between the two identical figures before him took up too much of his thought processes. He could not fit together the final piece that would solve this feeling of unease.

“You don’t have much longer, Xichen,” Hensheng told him, sounding displeased but not panicked. “The others will find us soon. If the spell is interrupted, it won’t matter which one you choose. I can’t predict what will happen, but I can assure you, your heart will not survive intact.”

Xichen did not want to make this choice. Somehow, he got the feeling that neither could possibly be correct, no matter how certain he was. But he could see no other way. He closed his eyes tightly and sent his thoughts out toward the one he loved. A-Yao, he called to him silently. No matter what happens, do not lose trust in me. I will find you, and I will love you, no matter how many times we are parted or what may stand between us. 

He reluctantly opened his eyes. He turned and moved slowly to stand before the figure on the right. His heart hammering in his ears, he searched the featureless gold for a sign of his beloved. He held his hands out before him with his palms up. The figure raised its hands and took both of his, and he helped him to stand. 

They stood this way, holding hands as they had at their wedding ceremony, for many long moments. “A-Yao,” Xichen said softly, more in hope than in belief. “You must believe that I love you. Do you understand?”

The figure slowly nodded. 

Feeling as if his heart would beat free of his throat, Xichen very hesitantly raised one hand and tugged down the gold veil. The fabric shifted like dragonfly wings across the figure’s face, concealing it until the last of the fluttering gold slipped away. Xichen breathed an initial sigh of relief that it was the face of the one he loved. 

He smiled helplessly. “A-Yao,” he murmured.

A-Yao smiled back at him with a tearful expression and eyes filled with affection. “Er-ge,” he whispered joyfully. “I’m so glad you found me.”

Xichen’s lips parted. Cold sank down into his stomach. He blinked once, and again, and the second time a tear slid down his cheek. “Glad?” he whispered.

A-Yao nodded, and he was nearly in tears as well, but still smiled lovingly up at Xichen. “Er-ge. I love you.”

Slowly, Xichen closed his eyes as the despair sank in. He squeezed A-Yao’s hands as if in apology. “Oh my love,” he sobbed softly. He shook his head. “My A-Yao…he would not be happy that I had found him.”

A-Yao’s expression shifted from happiness to fear. “…Er-ge…?”

Xichen tried to smile down at the one who was stealing his love’s face, but his heart was broken. “I failed after all. But I do love him so. He is so precious. But he cannot see it. No matter how much time passes, he still thinks that one day I’ll find someone better than he, and I’ll abandon him as if nothing ever happened. He tried so hard to protect me from himself, when…”

Suddenly, Xichen gasped. This was it. The piece he had been missing. He finally saw it.

The A-Yao in his arms was now trembling in fear, dewdrops glimmering from his eyelashes. “Er-ge…please…” he whispered.

But Xichen’s mind was racing, trying to see the larger picture. Even when A-Yao had still been sick, despite all the sins he had committed, had he ever done anything that could even harm Xichen by accident? Even if Hensheng were born out of A-Yao’s worst impulses, could a single one of those impulses ever include forcibly altering Xichen’s heart? Did that make any sense at all?

He blinked down at the precious creature in his arms, and suddenly he could neither see A-Yao nor Hensheng, but somehow was filled with warmth and affection for something that had existed between them all along. 

He cautiously took A-Yao’s cheek in his hand. “Neither was A-Yao to begin with…” he murmured softly. “Neither was Hensheng…this is…all inside my mind. You answer as I have often wished A-Yao would. Selfishly, and without telling him. If I were to choose either of you…what would happen? You are both my ideal, not the reality…a part of my mind…”

He turned his gaze up toward the light, somehow feeling that was where Hensheng was watching this from. “A-Sheng,” he said gently. “If the true love I chose was, in the end, myself…what would have happened? Was this your goal after all?”

At first, no answer came. Then quietly, “I’m getting bored. You made your choice.” Yet the voice that came this time was significantly less filled with life than it had been before. Xichen almost thought it sounded tearful. “You passed. The test is over, you’ll wake up soon.”

Xichen shook his head, finally feeling confident for the first time since he came to this dream state. “I won’t.”

“…what?”

“If I were to end this test by choosing my ideal version of A-Yao rather than the man himself, I gather the end result would be that I no longer loved the real A-Yao. Am I correct?” Xichen asked him.

No answer at all this time.

“Then I would be ‘free.’ Isn’t that so?”

A sigh. “This struggling is pointless. Can’t I nurse my broken heart in peace?”

Xichen offered a hesitant smile toward the light above his head. “If leaving this dream means that I will no longer love A-Yao, then I have no choice. Hensheng…it’s all right. I forgive you. And I still trust you. And when I do wake, I hope you will be honest with your feelings toward the one you truly love.”

Xichen closed his eyes. He let go of the lingering grasp he held on his consciousness and slid deeper and deeper down. He collapsed into the arms of the shadow of A-Yao in his dream.

Hensheng gasped softly. “…Xichen…”

“…”

“Xichen…? Xichen! Lan Xichen! You………XICHEN!”


	6. The Long Guqin Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After rescuing Xichen, all had hoped that would be the end of this incident. But even A-Yao's voice does not wake his sleeping husband.

When Lan Wangji attempted to open the secret entrance to the Forbidden Library, they found it blocked by another qi-sealing barrier. His hand was snapped away as soon as he came near. 

“Bichen,” he said simply.

“Yes.”

Bichen swept past his master, raised his fist and, just as he had done with the one inside the Cold Chamber, easily shattered the barrier with a great noise and crackle of energy. Lan Wangji opened the entrance to the Forbidden Library, intending to go in first. But as soon as the way was clear, a small figure in gold and white darted past him. 

“Lianfang-zun!” Shuoyue said worriedly, and rushed in after him.

When the others finally managed to follow them down, they found Hensheng knelt on the floor, cradling a motionless Lan Xichen in his arms. With a pale and tear-streaked face, he trembled and looked between Jin Guangyao and Shuoyue for help. 

“I don’t understand…” he sobbed softly. “I lifted the incantation…he won’t wake…Shuoyue…” 

“Xichen!” Guangyao cried, in a louder than usual voice that surprised all who knew him, not to mention his use of Xichen’s name. 

He heartlessly shoved Hensheng aside. He felt Xichen’s meridians, lifted his closed eyes and listened to his heart. “Xichen,” he whispered, clasping the side of his face gently. “Can you hear me? It’s going to be all right.”

Shuoyue knelt beside Hensheng and held him, stroking his hair and speaking softly to him to comfort the panicked and crying sword spirit, who could not tear his wide-eyed gaze away from the motionless body of Xichen. 

“What did you do?” Guangyao hissed, this time keeping his volume low but holding back none of the poison in his tone.

“Nothing that should cause this!” Hensheng cried in his defense. “A simple incantation, herbs to make him sleep only for a few minutes! He should have woken as soon as the test was complete, but he…”

“Test?” Wangji repeated with suspicion.

“I…” Hensheng whimpered helplessly, looking toward Jin Guangyao for help. “I only wanted to set him free…I only did what you wanted!”

All gazes turned now toward Jin Guangyao instead. The delicate man seemed just as confused as the others at first. His gaze slowly lowered as understanding broke over his face. “What I wanted,” he whispered to himself. Then he closed his eyes in deep regret and anguish.

Despite his tears and with Shuoyue’s encouragement, Hensheng eventually managed to explain enough that the others understood more or less what he had been trying to do. Despite his clear devotion toward Xichen, this had all been a vain attempt to please his master after all. Hensheng had apparently grown somewhat over-protective from the time he was first bonded to Jin Guangyao. The constant state of fear that Guangyao was experiencing at that time, along with his inferiority complex, twisted Hensheng’s personality so that he was somehow equally devoted to Jin Guangyao as much as he despised and looked down him. All things Jin Guangyao felt about himself.

Jin Guangyao turned down toward Lan Xichen. He caressed his serenely sleeping face with a slightly trembling hand. “I did this to you,” he murmured.

“But if he already made his choice, why didn’t he wake?” Wei Wuxian asked curiously.

“I don’t know!” Hensheng insisted. “He…he said…” He hesitantly looked up toward his master. “ ‘If leaving this dream by choosing one of them means I’ll stop loving A-Yao, then I won’t.’”

“…he won’t leave the dream?” Wei Wuxian murmured.

All were silent, Wangji’s fists tightened at his sides, as the degree of Lan Xichen’s love overwhelmed them. That is, until Jin Guangyao broke the tense silence with a foul invective.

“…starry-eyed fool.”

Though Wangji shot him a disapproving look, and despite what he had just said, Jin Guangyao’s expression as he gazed down at his sleeping husband was filled with tenderness.

One by one, tears formed in his reddened eyes and slid down his cheeks. “I won’t let you go so easily,” he whispered gently, stroking his hair. “Wake up, you fool. And tell me that you love me.” He sobbed softly and insisted in a lifeless whisper, “If you don’t tell me, how can I show you that I believe you this time?”

But Lan Xichen did not wake that day.

While he remained to all appearances healthy, Xichen did not stir at all that day, or the next. He was placed in the Cold Chamber and looked after primarily by Lan Wangji, who played his guqin for him day and night. Jin Guangyao meanwhile took responsibility for Hensheng, and told Lan Qiren that whatever punishment was required, he would take himself. Jin Guangyao’s own punishment took several days to heal from as well. 

On the third day after Xichen’s collapse, A-Yao knocked on the door of the Cold Chamber. The sound of a guqin playing from within stopped. After a small pause, doors opened, with Lan Wangji standing stoically between them. His eyes passed from the slightly feverish-looking Jin Guangyao to the expressionless sword spirit who now was required to stay by Guangyao’s side at all times, as a condition to Guangyao’s accepting punishment for him.

“Wangji,” Guangyao said softly, without meeting his eyes. “I came to see if you could use some rest.”

He had his own guqin held at his side, which Wangji noticed at once. His stoic brother-in-law turned his gaze back up to A-Yao and nodded without a word. 

From that time on, A-Yao took Lan Wangji’s place by Xichen’s side. He refused to leave even for a moment, even when Wangji periodically returned to take over playing the guqin for him. While Wangji’s fingers were already well calloused from both casual playing and use in battle, and could withstand this kind of prolonged use, A-Yao’s formerly jade-like fingers were raw and blistered after no more than a day and a half of playing. Yet they continued like this for five more days, all the while with Hensheng watching without a word or the slightest change in expression.

On the sixth day, in late afternoon, A-Yao was struggling to stay awake from sheer exhaustion of playing so long. His playing grew faint and intermittent, his head dipping again and again toward his chest. Hensheng remained patiently watching this from a corner of the room, but saw no need to try to keep his master awake. 

Until, that is, the man who had been peacefully sleeping for the last week began to slowly open his eyes. 

Hensheng gasped. He reached over and grasped Guangyao’s arm tightly. A-Yao shook the sleep from his head and glanced from Hensheng to where his sword was staring, unblinking. Then he saw what had caused his sword such alarm. A slightly troubled expression on his face, Xichen gazed up at the ceiling as he slowly woke. 

“Er-ge!” A-Yao cried, dropping his guqin to the floor with a discordant clatter. 

He knelt on the bed and caressed Xichen’s face, quickly checking his meridians once more to make sure nothing was wrong. It took a few moments for Xichen to become properly aware of his surroundings. He gradually turned his gaze up to Jin Guangyao. 

The feeling of dread that had been accompanying his grim and lonely guqin-playing for the last few days at last reached its peak. A-Yao could not meet Xichen’s gaze. He pretended to be concentrating on checking his meridians while he fought the terrible fear. 

Because no matter how much he tried to be brave, to learn from his lesson and trust in Xichen, his self-doubt was far better cultivated by now than any other emotion. Even during rare moments when he managed to convince himself that he was remotely worthy of being loved by Lan Xichen, his pessimism reminded him that the odds were against him. According to what Hensheng had said, Xichen had at least initially fallen for his deception. So no matter how strong his love had been before, the possibility remained that it had all since melted away like a dream, with only the shadow of an ideal left behind where A-Yao’s presence used to be.

His fingers trembled slightly as he remained holding Xichen’s wrist without a word for much longer than he needed to check his meridians. Yet despite his fear, he was also flooded with relief at this moment. Xichen had at last opened his eyes. There was nothing in the world he had to be more thankful for than that. With his own eyes somewhat red and stinging, he moved his fingers down instead to clasp Xichen’s hand in both his own. He looked into Xichen’s eyes and couldn’t help smiling with cautious joy at the sight of him. 

As recognition slowly dawned over Xichen’s face, A-Yao’s perseverance was rewarded with the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Xichen smiled at him. Of course he had seen Xichen smile before. He did so all the time, unlike his famously expressionless brother. But somehow this was the first time that he felt he could also feel Xichen’s joy through meeting his eyes. A-Yao also realized in that moment that up until now, he often avoided looking directly into Xichen’s eyes for too long, out of a lingering fear that he would see what he feared there: affection, perhaps, but nothing more.

It was the first time he had ever been quite so wrong about anything. The way Xichen looked at him was indescribable. Despite his soft, slightly pained smile, Xichen’s gaze was fixed with fascination upon A-Yao, as if reluctant even to blink and miss a moment of appreciating the sight of him. A-Yao’s chest ached with guilt at the thought that he had ever doubted such pure and devoted feelings.

“How do you feel?” A-Yao asked with a broken voice.

But Xichen seemed far too interested with admiring A-Yao than he was with answering his question. He raised his hand and contentedly stroked A-Yao’s hair and cheek for some time. Finally he offered an embarrassed smile. 

“Quite foolish,” he said.

A-Yao sighed irritably, though happy tears still rose to his eyes. “I am sorry you feel that way, Er-ge. And your body?”

Xichen again became trapped in looking at him for some time. His hand rose to cover the center of his chest. “You are so dear to me that it aches, even when you are so close, even when our days are filled with happiness and contentment. Am I ill, do you think, A-Yao?”

A-Yao sobbed pitifully and hid his face behind his shaking hands. “You foolish man…” he sobbed, crying like child and poorly enunciating his words. “I’ve done…so many bad things…and even didn’t trust you…I’m short…and my sword has a screw loose…”

Xichen chuckled, nodding and stroking A-Yao’s hair. “Yes. So I suppose it’s no surprise I love him too.”

Even though Jin Guangyao was no stranger to jealousy, he somehow felt only warmth at this confession. He even felt a small warm feeling toward Hensheng. He took a few breaths to try to settle his crying, wiping his cheeks with his sleeves, forgetting his handkerchief completely. He sighed a little.

“I’ve used up several lifetimes worth of luck to get you back. I’ll probably be reborn as a housefly,” he commented absently.

“Hm. I’d prefer a termite if possible,” Xichen replied with an amused smile. Guangyao was about to ask what he meant by that when his smile softened and he added, “They mate for life, I believe.”

A-Yao’s fingers tightened over his knees. It was a matter of great physical strength to hold back the urge to start crying again. He self-consciously ran his fingers across his still somewhat moist cheeks. 

But as he did, Xichen frowned and suddenly grasped his hand. Looking at the state of his fingers, he sighed heavily. “You played too long…”

A-Yao sniffed and shook his head dismissively. “Just out of practice. It was mostly Wangji.”

Xichen smiled softly and shook his head. “Only for the first two days. Isn’t that so? I know your sound, my love.” 

A-Yao’s heart swelled at these words. They echoed deep within his chest along with both pain and joy together. He resolved at that moment that he would devote his life to making Lan Xichen happy. There could be no greater purpose.

“A-Yao. I have something serious to ask of you. I won’t lose you again,” Xichen whispered, grasping A-Yao’s hand gently in both his own. “If I ever make you feel unwanted again, you must tell me. Promise.”

“I…” A-Yao’s throat caught. Not only because he was almost offended that Xichen’s immediate concern after his ordeal was A-Yao’s feelings. After what he had just sworn to himself, he was mortified that the words he had held back for so long almost fell right from his lips. His skin felt clammy with fear once more. His stomach twisted. What if Xichen felt it was a burden? What if he were disgusted? A-Yao could learn to live without it. He had done so for so long already, he could go his life without being touched, if it were for Xichen’s sake.

A flash of gold in the corner of his eye reminded him of Hensheng’s silent presence in the corner of the room. Though his eyes were red as well, he was staring straight down at the floor, clearly relieved for them but also terrified of the fate that might be awaiting him. Guangyao tried to accept that cowardly part of himself as well as he struggled to become the person who could make Lan Xichen truly happy.

“What I caused Hensheng to feel…is no fault of yours, Er-ge,” he said quietly, taking courage and meeting his beloved’s gaze. “I am an insecure person. Partly that is just my nature, and partly…”

“…partly?”

A-Yao took a deep breath in and out. “Partly,” he began again, with his heart hammering up into his throat. “The truth is…I only feel loved when I’m touched.”

Xichen’s serene eyes fluttered open widely at this revelation. “I haven’t been touching you…enough?”

A-Yao blinked and raised an eyebrow. “Were you under the impression you were touching me too much?”

“I…didn’t know. I was concerned, since you told me once that your only relationships before me were only physical…”

A-Yao covered his face in resignation with his free hand. “You were being considerate of me,” he summarized.

Xichen looked very concerned, holding his knuckle contemplatively against his chin. Eventually he pushed himself up to a seated position in the bed and faced Guangyao. The way he was looking so deeply into his eyes at that moment, A-Yao felt as if his heart might explode. 

In a mellow and intimate voice that A-Yao had rarely heard him use before, Xichen asked him softly, “A-Yao. Can you tell me how you like to be touched?”

Even as his brain promptly did explode for several moments at being told such a seductive phrase by the most beautiful man in the world, A-Yao swallowed heavily to restore his logic. “Er-ge…I also don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I have been meditating in the Cold Pond to try to learn control. I cannot say whether I have made progress, but I am certain that I can. There is no need to force yourself.”

“The Cold Pond?” Xichen asked worriedly. “Whatever for?”

“The…Lan method for teaching oneself discipline against desire.”

Xichen blinked at him. A-Yao stared right back. Neither seemed to have an answer for the miscommunication. Eventually Xichen looked a little embarrassed and cleared his throat slightly.

“The…Cold Pond is a valuable tool for cultivating both spirit and body,” he said carefully. “It can help to withstand desires of certain kinds, and yes, lust is one of them. Hunger for example being another. But it cannot change your feelings. You said that it is by means of touch that you feel loved. That is not a desire. It is just as you said, a part of your nature.”

“…you mean…?”

Xichen nodded with an expression of pity. “You might as well have been trying to change the color of your hair by thinking.”

A-Yao closed his eyes in mortification, though he felt a deep flush creeping across his cheeks. It did not help that, when he did open his eyes again, he was sure he saw Hensheng smirk at his misfortune. He was about to change the subject when Xichen grasped both his hands.

“I also want to touch you,” he told him, leaning in closer so as to share A-Yao’s warmth. He lifted one hand to caress his hair again. “I am not forcing myself. I am only inexperienced. And so, I will need your help.”

With this final death blow to A-Yao’s resistance, he could find not a single word to refuse him. Xichen drew in a little closer, until A-Yao could feel his breath. He also instinctively leaned toward him, his lips aching to feel the touch of Xichen’s. 

At the last moment before they touched, Xichen gasped. “H-…Hensheng,” he murmured with alarm, as if just noticing his presence. 

“He doesn’t mind,” A-Yao said immediately, his eyes still on Xichen’s lips. 

“I really don’t mind,” Hensheng affirmed, his own gaze still on the floor.

“Y-yes, but…” 

Xichen’s protests were briefly interrupted by A-Yao’s lips pressing softly against his cheek. His eyes fluttered closed and he turned a warm gaze on him for a moment before his embarrassment arose again. 

“It isn’t…proper…” he stammered as A-Yao gradually moved more and more into Xichen’s space on the bed.

“He and I both have a penchant for impropriety,” A-Yao whispered directly against Xichen’s ear, causing his large, muscular body to shiver. 

Hensheng actually propped his chin on his hand and turned his gaze on the more and more deeply embracing couple. “Or I could join you.”

“Jo-?!” Xichen choked on the word.

“See?” A-Yao said, heedlessly wrapping his legs around Xichen’s waist. 

Xichen continued to mount soft and reluctant protests until A-Yao’s lips found his, and the two melted against one another like two men starved of sunlight on the first day of spring. A-Yao trembled with delight as Xichen’s broad hand spread across his back, holding him minimally closer. He lowered his hips purposefully down to grind gently against the center of Xichen’s body. 

Their lips parted as Xichen gasped. “Sh-…Shuoyue!”

Shuoyue immediately entered, having apparently been waiting outside for an invitation once again. When he saw the condition of his master and his husband, he smiled quite joyfully. “Master…you are awake,” he said sweetly.

“P-…please see to Hensheng! At least in the next room…”

“Yes.”

Shuoyue gladly lent Hensheng both his hands to help him up, who followed him with unusual obedience. Though Hensheng did cast the other two a somewhat forlorn look to be left out, he let Shuoyue guide him away into the next bedroom, closing the door behind them. 

Though truthfully, even before the door had closed, the two on the bed had long since forgotten the presence of their swords. When he climbed into his lap, Jin Guangyao had every intention of pushing Lan Xichen back on the bed and kissing him until they were both breathless. But somehow he had completely forgotten Xichen’s immense strength. Even pushing with his full weight could not move him. Even this thought made shivers run up his spine.

He hurriedly untied his own belt and returned his attention to kissing. All other clothing items were only half-heartedly removed as the two entangled more and more deeply into each other on the bed. Rather adorably, though he obliged A-Yao in whatever he wanted, Xichen seemed uncertain what to do with himself. His hands on A-Yao’s hips and back frequently halted or retracted. His expression whenever A-Yao opened his eyes was unsure and embarrassed. He decided it was probably best to let Xichen be in control.

He very reluctantly drew away from kissing in order to stroke both sides of Xichen’s face with affection. “Er-ge…I should ask you. How do you like to be touched?”

Xichen blushed and his gaze darted away, but he did not seem upset. “I wouldn't…”

“You never tried…alone?”

Now Xichen looked quite troubled. That face said that he had, and yet he seemed to think it was improper to admit to it. 

“It’s all right. Easy enough to find out,” Guangyao said smoothly, preserving Xichen’s dignity by pretending not to have seen that expression. “You can tell me where to touch and how, and I’ll stop the moment you don’t like something. Or, if it makes you feel more comfortable…” He leaned back slightly to shrug off the remains of his yi from his shoulders, so he was now bare down to the waist. He took Xichen’s hand and moved it slowly up his own thigh, encouraging his touch. “…you can touch me first.”

Xichen’s breathing heightened. His eyes were hazy as they took in the better part of A-Yao’s half-naked body. He allowed A-Yao to guide his hand further and further up his leg until his fingertips touched his bare skin. From there he no longer needed guidance. He ran his fingertips over A-Yao’s stomach and chest, periodically stopping to look up with concern and interest whenever A-Yao reacted to his touch. 

A-Yao’s skin was tingling. But the longer this went on, the harder it was to endure such delicate teasing. When Xichen’s fingertips brushed his nipple, he couldn’t hold back a small noise and a flinch. 

Xichen exhaled heavily at this reaction. “A-Yao…” he whispered.

Guangyao wrapped his arms around Xichen’s neck and drew in close, hungry to be touched where the heat in his body was highest. “Er-ge…”

Though his breathing had become quite labored by now, Xichen seemed to understand what he wanted. Cautiously, he moved his hand down further and further, caressing A-Yao’s ribs and waist, pausing for a moment over the center of his stomach. Finally, he slipped his fingers inside A-Yao’s trousers and surrounded his member in his large hand. 

A-Yao took in a shuddering gasp, his fingers twisting into the clothes on Xichen’s iron-like back. He helplessly laid his head against his husband’s shoulder as sensations quickly overwhelmed him. 

Xichen moved his fingers so slowly at first. Almost as if he were trying to memorize the shape of A-Yao’s member, languidly and carefully stroking from top to bottom. Though he craved something much more intense, this careful teasing was driving A-Yao half out of his mind with pleasure. He could barely even vocalize how good he felt, simply emitting soft and intermittent gasps near Xichen’s ear. 

He had no idea what effect he was having on the sensitive ears of his inexperienced husband. Xichen also gasped softly. His breathing rose yet further and his free arm surrounded A-Yao, bringing him as close as possible. While hesitantly nuzzling against his neck, his hand moved gradually faster. 

A-Yao’s soft gasps increased, and little by little his voice crept in among his panting. He couldn’t help shifting his hips impatiently, shocked by how easily he was already brought to the edge. As much as he thought it was shameful to be so fast, Xichen squeezing down tighter on both his cock and his back left him nowhere to run from the sensations he was giving him. 

“Ngh!” he cried in mild panic, clinging desperately to Xichen’s rock-hard body. 

Suddenly, he gasped once again as he felt teeth sink into his neck. He couldn’t help letting out a loud cry as cum shot from his cock and draped Xichen’s hand and his own stomach. 

“Ah!” Xichen gasped against his skin, grasping A-Yao almost painfully tightly as his body convulsed for several seconds. 

Waves of satisfaction ran down A-Yao’s body, and warmth came to his cheeks as he realized that Xichen had cum just from seeing his orgasm. This was really too blissful to bear, and the strength drained from his body. He limply sank back against the bed between Xichen’s legs, regaining his breath. 

He had little time to do so, however, as Xichen soon knelt over him and insistently begged for more kisses. A-Yao willingly wrapped his husband in his arms again, encouraging him to do whatever he wanted. It was yet another blissful experience to be so surrounded by Xichen’s powerful body and pressed down beneath him into the bed. He completely forgot the pain in his back. Even though he had just cum, A-Yao’s desire for him only continued to increase until it was unbearable.

Fortunately, it was not just him. With ragged breaths, Xichen briefly parted form his lips to gasp softly, “A-Yao…I…I want more…this desire, it doesn't seem right…”

“Mm. There should be some oil in the bedside cabinet,” A-Yao told him, reverently kissing his cheek and ignoring his puritanical impulses. “Could you bring it here?”

Numbly, Xichen nodded. He seemed distantly aware of what A-Yao wanted it for, but his sense of propriety kept him from admitting it. He leaned down from the bed to reach inside the cabinet and found the small vial A-Yao had indicated. Guangyao nodded and explained, “Coat your fingers in it…and then you can start to massage the entrance, so I'll be ready for you.”

Though a blush quickly spread across his cheeks, not helped by the fact that A-Yao was now removing the last of his clothes beneath him, he eventually nodded. As A-Yao leaned back and parted his legs for him, Xichen coated his fingers in the oil. He swallowed slightly but seemed deeply focused as he cautiously ran his fingers between A-Yao’s pert cheeks.

A-Yao closed his eyes and reached up his hand to stroke Xichen’s neck, reassuring him, but also simply appreciating the feeling of being close enough to be veiled and warmed by his beautiful black hair, which was thick with his naturally pleasing scent. This was a feeling he swore he would never forget, with Xichen’s intense but embarrassed gaze on his naked body, his fingers cautiously exploring and beginning to open him up. If he were not still so filled with desire for him, he would have gladly fallen asleep just like this.

Without being told, Xichen gradually inserted one finger and then two inside him. A-Yao’s soft moans and bucking of his hips assured him that he was doing it correctly. After several minutes of careful stretching, he inserted a third, but stopped suddenly as A-Yao arched his back and let out a loud moan.

“Was that too much?” Xichen panted softly. 

Still regaining his breath, A-Yao eventually managed to shake his head. “Your fingers…brushed my prostate…it’s fine. But if you touch it again, I’ll cum…”

Realizing A-Yao’s reaction had been one of intense pleasure rather than pain, Xichen’s eyelashes fluttered and the hazy look in his eyes increased. He obediently resumed opening him up, taking care to avoid that spot but clearly remembering it for later. 

“Nh,” he gasped at one point. “A-Yao…I’m aching…can I…?”

“Yes…” A-Yao whispered without even a gap. 

Xichen’s ragged breath continued as he briefly removed his fingers. He shrugged off the majority of his clothes in moments, although A-Yao was sure he heard something rip. As he leaned over him, Xichen conscientiously and carefully stroked his own cock with the oil, making sure there would be no friction between them. A-Yao swallowed heavily as he caught sight of the monster Xichen had been keeping to himself. His heart was flooded with equal parts anxiety and anticipation. 

“A-Yao…” Xichen whispered. 

“Er-ge,” A-Yao replied affectionately, clasping Xichen’s face in his hands. “Come here.”

Xichen gasped slightly and his eyes fluttered again. Looking down to make sure of what he was doing, he aimed his tip toward A-Yao’s eagerly awaiting entrance. A-Yao immediately felt his heat and hardness even before the tip was inside. He could hardly believe how lucky he was that his husband’s cock was such a perfect specimen, though perhaps a little bigger than he was prepared for. Everything below his hips felt warm and tingling with pleasure, and he briefly wondered whether he would pass out from pleasure to finally feel Xichen inside him.

Inch by inch, Xichen pressed inside. Small twinges of pain from being stretched only added to A-Yao’s deep pleasure and desire. He trembled and twitched uncontrollably as more and more of his insides were filled up by this heavy, hot part of his husband's body. He kept thinking this must be the end, but more and more pressed deeper and deeper inside him, until he felt the pressure unbelievably reaching up and pushing against his stomach muscles. He let out a loud moan and nearly came once again just from being so thoroughly filled. He quietly vowed to himself that if he died by being impaled on Xichen’s cock, he would not die unhappy. 

But finally it seemed he had fit it in all the way to the base. Both men panted in exhaustion already. A-Yao felt his heart further warmed by the way Xichen held him softly and allowed him to get used to the sensation for many long moments. He contentedly stroked Xichen’s hair, even though his hands were trembling slightly.

“It’s all right, Xichen,” he whispered against his neck. “You can move.”

But Xichen gasped and shivered. He lay his head down on Guangyao’s shoulder and shook it a little. “I can’t.”

“Does it hurt?” A-Yao asked worriedly.

Xichen shook his head again. 

“…am I too tight?”

Another gasp, and this time Xichen covered his face with his hand in exasperation. “I need a moment. To think of something else,” he explained in a terse voice.

A-Yao did not manage to hold back a small chuckle as he realized the problem. “Come,” he urged him obligingly. “As many times as you like. There’s no hurry.”

Xichen seemed troubled as he cautiously looked down at him. “Isn’t this…part of being a good husband?”

“Rest assured, I’ll come after you until you have nothing left to give, Er-ge,” A-Yao promised him in a sultry whisper against his ear. “Don’t hold back. I’ve wanted you for so long it’s agony waiting one more second. Warm me up inside.”

“Agh!” Xichen gasped, surrounding A-Yao in his arms and thrusting only once, deep inside him. 

Both men gasped as he started cumming. But he thrust again and again, slowly as he drained himself. A-Yao cried out and dug his fingernails into Xichen’s back in desperation at the overwhelming feeling. He could swear he could hear his cum spurting inside him, filling him so deeply with warmth that he almost forgot who he was. From around the second thrust inside him, A-Yao’s prostate was far too stimulated to leave him be. In a long, drawn-out orgasm that several times threatened to take over his consciousness, he trembled and gasped through Xichen’s powerful cum being thrust inside him. 

Xichen slumped against him, only just remembering to hold up part of his bodyweight on his elbow to avoid crushing the delicate man beneath him. A-Yao’s heart fluttered as he heard a soft whimper against his neck. 

“A-Yao,” Xichen murmured, holding him and pressing his face to his neck as if for comfort. “I still want more…is that licentious?”

When he finally regained some sense of himself after that intense experience, A-Yao chuckled softly. “If it is, I'll be tried together with you. I want more too.”

Xichen managed a hesitant smile and caressed A-Yao’s cheek. “Mm," he said with a nod. "But I may need a few moments.”

A-Yao nodded in understanding at first, but then moments later smiled coquettishly. “Or…we could switch places.”

Though he feared a displeased reaction to his suggestion, A-Yao’s chest swelled with love and anticipation as Xichen blushed and looked down at him curiously. “…we could?”


	7. An Aromatic Bath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A-Yao tenderly embraces Xichen, and the two grow even closer. Their warm atmosphere has an unexpected interruption, however.

Jin Guangyao’s body was so small and fragile-seeming in his hands. If he surrounded his waist in both hands, his fingertips nearly touched. Despite his slenderness, his body was pliant and androgynous, pleasing both to the eye and the touch. And beneath this narrow waist, he had wide and feminine hips that begged to be held. The way he gasped and clung to Xichen, both with his delicate fingers digging into his back and his enticing hole clamping down on him, had been far too much stimulation for someone with so little experience.

Yet now this adorable, erotic creature was suggesting he could turn Xichen, a man twice his size, to a similar state of disarray. Equal desire and confusion made it difficult for Xichen to respond. But it would be a lie to say he was not apprehensive. 

Reading this in his expression, A-Yao nodded before he had even attempted a response. He stroked his cheek to reassure him and said in a soft and intimate voice, “We have all the time in the world, if you change your mind.”

Yet with this gentle acceptance of his feelings, Xichen’s heart, and resistance, melted away. His fingers curled around A-Yao’s delicate hand on the bed. He could feel his own face burning, because unlike Wangji, he had always been terrible at concealing his feelings. And what he was feeling now, in addition to embarrassment and uncertainty, was a burning desire to know what A-Yao had been feeling moments ago. 

“There…is a certain logic to it,” he murmured thoughtfully. “After all, if I don’t know how you’re feeling…it would be difficult to make sure it is pleasant for you. I think…it is not an unpleasant thought.”

A-Yao blushed as well, enchanting Xichen as he always did with the slightest change of expression on his small and dainty face. In hopeful disbelief, he gazed up at Xichen and seemed to become entranced by him. His expression softened and he continued stroking Xichen’s face, as if there were nothing else in the world he would rather be doing. It made Xichen ache down into his bones with an almost painful happiness.

“If you are sure you want to…then let’s do this properly. Let me bathe you first.”

Despite Xichen’s embarrassed objections, A-Yao threw on a light zhongyi over his body and went outside to flag down a disciple, informing him that Zewu-jun was awake and was requesting a bath after his lengthy sleep. The disciple hurried to obey. Lan Xichen buried his face in his hands and asked forgiveness to his ancestors for taking advantage of the labor of his devoted disciples for a sexual escapade.

The piping hot bath was brought into their room and A-Yao stood before it with a hairbrush, several soaps and sweet-smelling oils. But Xichen remained sitting on the bed with his legs tucked up to his chest. Even though they had just been in the most intimate situation possible, and in all honesty a bath sounded like exactly what he needed, he was still reluctant to remove his remaining clothes in front of his husband. 

A-Yao looked over at him in mildly irritated incredulity. “Xichen,” he said, with the voice of a disapproving parent. Xichen thought something must be strange about him, as he found this personality quite enchanting as well. “…I have seen you naked before.”

Xichen offered an apologetic smile, but still made no move to get up. 

“You’re surely not worried I’ll become disillusioned by the sight? Have you forgotten how beautiful you are?” A-Yao continued, though his tone was now a little playful and made Xichen’s heart beat faster. 

Xichen tilted his head, exploring the issue in his heart as well. “I’m not sure why. But the thought of being naked in front of you still seems…unnerving.”

Jin Guangyao considered this for a moment. At the end of his consideration, he set the various bath tools he was carrying by the side of the tub. When he rose, he produced a hair ribbon and languidly pulled up the majority of his silky black locks into a loose bun, tendrils of which dripped enticingly down onto his slender neck. While Xichen was mesmerized by these subtly erotic actions, A-Yao slipped a finger into the hastily tied knot at his waist and tugged it loose. The light silk garment fluttered with little resistance from his nubile body and down to the floor. 

His heart racing, Xichen’s could not help but pass his gaze from the puddle of silk on the floor, up the slender and pale legs, past the ample hips and narrow waist, not to mention that incredibly tempting part in between, boyish chest and slim shoulders and neck, and finally up to the faintly blushing and intoxicatingly beautiful face of his beloved. 

“Am I too shameful?” A-Yao asked him in a gentle and yet tempting voice.

Xichen’s ears felt hot. It was difficult to concentrate. He was suddenly grateful that they had already had sex, or he would have had difficulty concealing the impact on his body of these small and graceful behaviors. He firmly shook his head.

A-Yao dipped his slender fingers in the water. “It’s just right, Er-ge. You had better hurry, before it cools.”

He suddenly felt a little silly for thinking he had to conceal anything from the one he loved. He nodded and rose, carefully removing the last of his clothes, including his forehead ribbon. A-Yao smiled warmly at him and held out a welcoming hand to help him into the tub.

He took it, but was wary about how much of his weight he should let A-Yao carry. Once he had settled into the warm and sweet-smelling water, instantly able to relax a little, he felt A-Yao gather up his hair outside the tub and begin conscientiously untangling and brushing it to smooth perfection. Xichen’s eyes fluttered closed in deep relaxation before he realized it. 

A-Yao took his time brushing out Xichen’s hair and restoring it to its usual smooth and shining condition. He ended this deeply relaxing process by repeatedly and gently running his fingers over Xichen’s scalp. His heart swelled with love and contentment to be treated with such care. 

“I would like to wash it for you as well, but it’s not healthy to go to sleep with it wet,” A-Yao commented, seeming quite contented to continue running his fingers through Xichen’s hair after the process was done. 

“Mm,” Xichen agreed, though he wasn’t really paying attention. He was too comfortable, and only wanted A-Yao to stroke him more.

Eventually though the blissful touch on his hair was done. Next A-Yao dipped a washcloth in the water, rubbing it thoroughly with soap. “Er-ge. Left arm,” he directed gently.

Xichen obediently lifted his arm from the water, offering it to his husband. A-Yao supported it at the wrist while he took his time massaging the washcloth into Xichen’s skin. He repeated the process across his chest and neck, then the other arm, then asked Xichen to turn away and lean outside the tub to expose his back. He cradled his smooth locks in one arm and pushed them out over Xichen’s shoulder to keep them from the water. While having his back washed and massaged by his beloved, Xichen truly wished this time would last even just a little longer. He could hardly remember feeling more comfortable and loved.

A-Yao next asked for each of his legs in turn, even washing between his toes, and finally had him stand up to reach the more intimate places. Even though Xichen once again hesitated at being so exposed, A-Yao’s touch had already made him so comfortable that he was aware he had nothing to fear. A-Yao did nothing to make him feel embarrassed or objectified as he continued washing every part of Xichen’s body with equal care and attention. Even as Xichen’s body visibly reacted to his touch, his expression did not even change.

“All right, Er-ge, get comfortable again,” he instructed, helping him to sit back down inside the tub. “Comfortable?” he asked him, smiling gently and stroking his hair once more.

Xichen nodded, leaning contentedly against his hand.

“Good. I’m going to try touching you now. Only where it feels good. Say the word and I’ll stop, no matter what.”

Though his heart was hammering, Xichen nodded again. 

He had expected A-Yao’s hands to go straight for the crucial area he was thinking of. But they did not. First over and then under the water, those small and delicate hands of his beloved seemed not to want to neglect any part of his body, to give him pleasure wherever he felt it. He even did such things as running his fingers lightly down his ear lobe. Such a small action, but it made shivers of pleasure run down Xichen’s whole body.

With the way A-Yao had washed him with such consideration, he felt more open than before. The pleasure he felt from those gentle hands exploring his skin soon overwhelmed his sense of unease. A-Yao kept his upper body close to Xichen’s as he touched him, without drawing any nearer, increasing his feeling of being protected. He kept sneaking glances up at the slightly flushed cheeks of Jin Guangyao’s doll-like, alabaster-skinned face, set to particular advantage with his hair pulled back. 

At one point the beautiful man’s dark eyes flicked up and met his own. Warmth and nervousness spread throughout his chest. While trapped in the gaze of his beloved, he flinched and let out a small noise as he unexpectedly found his member lightly grasped at the base. 

“I’ll leave this part for now,” A-Yao whispered, his eyes never leaving Xichen’s. “I’ll make sure you feel good there later,” he promised, pressing a kiss to his now slightly sweating brow. “The part that concerns us now…is here.”

Those nimble fingers traced a line from the base of Xichen’s penis, around his balls, down between his legs to a place he had never been touched by another human being before. He swallowed as he realized – perhaps simply because it was A-Yao – that his skin already tingled from even a light touch. Was it supposed to feel this way? Surely this area was not meant for such a use…did that make him perverse?

While he was busy being concerned about this, he felt a kiss against his cheek. His eyes fluttered as this gentle gesture sent warmth spreading throughout his body. He unconsciously and cautiously shifted his hips upward slightly, making it easier for those fingers to reach that spot. 

A kiss on his lips soon followed, and somehow the combination of A-Yao’s kiss and feeling his fingers in such a place made Xichen unable to restrain a soft moan. Yet A-Yao did not judge him for this loss of composure, but rather deepened his kiss, pressing Xichen’s head back against the rim of the tub. His ring finger also began to make very small yet devastatingly pleasurable circular motions over Xichen’s hole. Xichen instinctively reached up to hold on to A-Yao’s free hand for comfort, even as he cautiously bucked his hips alternately toward and away from the new sensations.

“A-Yao…” he whispered, clinging to him with both hands now.

“Er-ge,” A-Yao replied warmly against his lips. 

With that, he encouraged Xichen to hold on to him around his neck instead, while he used his free arm to cradle the small of Xichen’s back under the water. With the buoyancy of the water, the difference in strength between the two no longer made much difference, and Xichen felt as if he were totally enveloped in A-Yao’s arms. 

He closed his eyes and breathed in A-Yao’s naturally sweet and delicate scent, brought out even more than usual by the back of his neck being exposed. Truthfully, he was starting to want to be the one to put it in again, but curiosity and a desire to please his dainty lover stopped him. He idly stretched his fingers over A-Yao’s upper back, longing to hold him more thoroughly. 

At one point, however, as his fingers drifted over a higher spot than he had been touching earlier, the smooth and supple skin over his love’s body gave way to an unexpected, jagged edge. A-Yao flinched, but he held back any other reaction of pain. 

Xichen gasped. “A-Yao? This is…”

“Shh. Not now,” A-Yao admonished him, and once again commanded his attention with a deep and consuming kiss. 

“Mm…but…”

“Later. Concentrate on what you’re feeling,” A-Yao whispered against his lips before claiming them again.

Xichen made a soft noise of distress, but he quickly curled his fingers against A-Yao’s shoulders, making sure not to touch any part of his back that might be injured. But while he was considering whether he should stop what they were doing after all, that was when the first finger worked its way inside him. 

“Ah…ah…!” he gasped against A-Yao’s lips, blinking rapidly in distress.

A-Yao gave him many slow kisses across his forehead, cheek and ear to calm him down. “Does it hurt?” he asked. 

Xichen managed to shake his head. 

“Are you scared? Uncomfortable?”

Xichen tightened his fingers over A-Yao’s shoulders again, uncertain how he should answer that. He definitely didn’t feel as he thought he should. But what made him nervous was that it was neither pain nor discomfort that he was feeling, but rather somehow a deeper pleasure than he felt even with the part in front. It was milder and easier to endure, but it seemed to echo through every nerve in his body. 

“N-…no,” he managed eventually, in a weak voice. “But I feel hot…down there…all the way up to my stomach. It tingles…it’s strange…”

A-Yao’s beautiful eyelashes fluttered, as if he were moved. He rewarded Xichen for his honesty with a lingering kiss against his temple. “It is strange at first. There’s nothing to fear. We’ll go as slowly as your body wants to. It may be impossible to put it in tonight, actually.”

“R-…really? But you…just now…” He blushed and held back from saying that it had been very easy to open A-Yao up enough to take his rather sizeable member, because the sentiment seemed to be both boastful on the one hand and accusing Jin Guangyao of being too loose on the other.

A-Yao sighed bitterly, casting his gaze aside. “Yes. I’ve been doing lude things on my own. Sullying the pristine air of the Cloud Recesses. Now I freely admit it.”

Xichen felt a thrill run though him as he briefly pictured A-Yao biting into a pillow to mask the sound of his voice, as he gave himself pleasure alone inside the Cold Chamber, when his desire for Xichen became too great. But soon after, his eyes lowered in defeat. 

“I really made you feel lonely,” he murmured. 

A-Yao sighed and shook his head, placing another kiss on Xichen’s forehead. “In the past. I’ve already forgotten. Besides, didn’t I tell you? Now you should concentrate on this.”

He curved his finger upward. Xichen jolted and splashed the water slightly. What had just happened? He felt as if every cell in his body had just lit up simultaneously with pleasure, spreading out from deep inside him and between his hips. A-Yao’s finger slowly worked its way in and out of Xichen’s gradually loosening hole, each time coming very near to touching that spot again but avoiding it at the last moment. 

“Er-ge is so tall, but your hips are so narrow,” A-Yao commented idly, even while Xichen was trying to console himself from mild panic rising from how good he was feeling. “Even someone as small as me can move them around easily. Are you sure you’ve never tried this before?”

In addition to feeling mildly panicked by the odd sensations of pleasure, Xichen went bright red with shame and frustration at the implication that he would ever sleep with someone he didn’t love, not to mention do something as mortifying as this. “I…” he stammered. “…would never…!”

“Forgive me, I was only teasing,” A-Yao assured him, bestowing more kisses to assure him of his sincerity. Xichen could only shiver in his arms and comply, but he was starting to suspect that having all this control over him was awakening a slightly devilish streak in Jin Guangyao.

The enticing movements of that finger grew progressively bolder as Xichen’s muscles gradually loosened and allowed it deeper entrance. He was quickly reduced to a state of panting and clinging to A-Yao, vainly trying to control the deep and vast pleasure rising up inside him. The more he thought about the fact that it was his petite and delicate husband that was so easily controlling his body and giving him such overwhelming sensations, the harder it was to hold back what he was feeling.

Another finger slowly worked its way inside. Xichen gasped and tightened his hold on A-Yao’s narrow shoulders. He was beginning to be truly unnerved by how much desire continued to rise up inside him, though his body gave him no hints as to what exactly might ease it. Helplessly he began moving his hips up to meet the movements of A-Yao’s fingers. 

Guangyao was incredibly patient in his manner of opening up Xichen’s body. He made no sudden or forceful movements and seemed more interested in exploring the sensations together with him than any particular goal. At one point though, several repetitions of a circular movement near but not exactly touching that sensitive area each brought Xichen’s pleasure progressively higher. Finally a simple drawing out and pushing back in, running over the same area, robbed Xichen of the last of his control.

He cried out and splashed desperately as his hips jolted up toward A-Yao’s fingers and he released his pent up pleasure into the water. Waves of pleasure continued to roll down his body as A-Yao tenderly kissed him and stroked his hair to reassure him after that overwhelming experience. But he felt somewhat lonely as A-Yao’s fingers withdrew from his body. 

“Come. Let’s get you dried off and into bed again,” A-Yao told him gently. 

Xichen obediently rose, but he was trembling on his feet. This time he was grateful for A-Yao’s hands to guide him out of the tub and dry him off. All sorts of thoughts were running through his mind, wondering if he was less of a man for enjoying that just now, wondering if he was especially lascivious, or if A-Yao might have become disillusioned with him. 

After wrapping him up in a loose-fitting robe, A-Yao smiled up at him, instantly settling the better part of his worries. “What do you think, Er-ge? Do you want to continue?”

Despite his misgivings, Xichen’s resolve about learning from A-Yao’s experience in order to better be able to make him happy remained. He softly smiled down at him and nodded. 

Once they retired to the bed, Xichen lay on his back and, as A-Yao leaned down over him, pulled him closer for lengthy and deep kissing. As they kissed, A-Yao let down his hair so that it tumbled down all around them, warming Xichen’s slightly chilled body after stepping out of the bath. Xichen breathed in deeply from his scent, letting his hands roam freely and possessively over A-Yao’s soft skin, though he consciously avoided going near his back. 

While he was fully engrossed with their kissing, A-Yao had taken up the bottle of oil that they used earlier, warming it in his fingers. He encouraged Xichen to bend his knees, wrapping his legs around A-Yao’s small frame, while his hand found that unexpectedly pleasurable spot again. 

Xichen shivered in spite of himself. It didn’t hurt exactly, but the sensation was different than it had been in the bath. He could feel that his muscles were still lose, and A-Yao was quickly able to fit two fingers inside again, but the heat of the water had dulled his nerves somewhat. Now he felt he could picture everything happening down there with precision. At first this only increased his embarrassment, but then he realized once and for all why A-Yao had purred like a kitten when he touched him this way. 

As much as it still felt he was doing something wrong, the more A-Yao’s fingers teased him, the more he craved it. He didn’t even notice as his hips lifted once or twice on their own to encourage this erotic touch. By the time A-Yao managed to fit a third finger smoothly inside, even though he should be exhausted from already coming twice, Xichen was aching to release again.

“Er-ge…I’ll try putting it in now, all right?” A-Yao asked, though he made no move to take out his fingers yet. 

Xichen hesitated to reply for a moment, feeling uneasy again. He looked up into A-Yao’s eyes for reassurance. His heart melted at the uncertainty he saw there. Despite the confidence in his touch, A-Yao looked as if he simply wanted to wrap Xichen up in blankets and comfort him. Xichen's own gaze softened as he touched A-Yao’s face adoringly.

“A-Yao…a few times recently you called me by my name…but today you’re only using ‘Er-ge,’” he observed softly.

Guanyao blinked in surprise. He looked away with a concealed expression of shame. “I’m sorry. Er-ge. When I was worried about you…it just slipped out.”

“Why?” he asked worriedly. “You are my husband. Isn’t it less strange to call me by my name, rather than ‘brother’?”

A-Yao sighed and shook his head dismissively. “Many couples use such terms.”

“…you don’t want to use my name?”

A-Yao had no answer at first, but he seemed unusually timid. Xichen was beginning to realize that these rare shows of hesitation in him were his brave attempts at revealing his true feelings, which had spent a lifetime feeling he had to hide. 

“It…wouldn’t be appropriate. Between us,” he added with almost no volume in his voice, as if he didn’t want to be heard. 

Xichen’s chest ached as he realized what he meant. “You mean because our status is different?” A-Yao again showed hesitation, but he clearly did not object to Xichen’s assessment. The larger man sighed, stroking his beautiful husband’s hair. “I’ve given up quite a bit of propriety today. I think you could spare a small one,” he said with a teasing smile.

A-Yao reluctantly looked up to meet his eyes, still uncertain. But in the way his expression softened, Xichen could see that love was overpowering his logic. He might just need one more push.

“Aren’t I your Xichen?”

A-Yao’s beautiful dark eyes grew traces of red and seemed to glisten. He breathed out a harsh breath as his eyes fluttered. Slowly, he sank down onto Xichen’s body, wrapping himself in his embrace. After holding him for a moment, he nuzzled the side of his face and whispered, “Xichen…let me inside you now. I need to be closer.”

Xichen held him around his waist and the back of his neck. “Mm,” he murmured. “Don't hold back anymore.”

He felt A-Yao’s slender body shift in his arms, guiding his cock to the place that had been so thoroughly teased. Xichen closed his eyes and braced himself for pain. The head slowly pushed inside, spreading him out and warming him from the inside. Even though A-Yao was not particularly big, the pressure was very different from his fingers. While he was relieved it wasn’t outright painful, the feeling was undeniably strange. 

He was about to ask A-Yao if he felt all right when suddenly he couldn’t find his voice. The pressure was only growing inside him, pressing against every sensitive area, and in particular the one that he feared being touched, for how easily it made him want to cum. He took in shaking breaths as he absently curled his fingers in A-Yao’s hair, seeking help. 

A-Yao also panted and cautiously looked up toward him as he slid fully inside. Though Xichen could tell he was worried, he could say nothing to reassure him. He was spending all his concentration on holding back his voice and the urge to cum. Albeit he had agreed to do this, but surely his ego would shatter if he came the moment A-Yao was finally inside. 

Contrary to his expectations, A-Yao seemed not only to be able to tell exactly what was happening to him, but also to be mesmerized by it. Of course, he realized. A-Yao was not only more experienced at sex in general, but particularly at the kind of experience Xichen was having now. No wonder he was so skillful at stirring Xichen up into such a state.

“Xichen,” A-Yao whispered. And despite Xichen’s distress, he slowly pulled out until only the tip was inside, and then drove in even more smoothly this time. “Xichen,” he said his name again, his voice thick with passion that made Xichen’s ears burn. 

He self-consciously turned his face away, wanting to hide. The feeling of heat and pleasure was now constant, there was nowhere to run from it. “A-Yao…” he murmured, in reality not certain himself whether he was saying his name to slow him down or encourage him. 

A-Yao managed to prop Xichen’s legs up on his shoulders so that the height difference would be minimized, and they could kiss. Xichen hungrily gave in to these kisses, even though they only made his problem worse. He moaned into A-Yao’s mouth as his speed of thrusting gradually increased. 

“Xichen…is it good?” he asked in a husky voice that Xichen could swear he had never heard from him before.

Xichen could only nod, afraid that if he spoke, only senseless moans would emerge.

“Good. Then I’ll do this for you as often as you like,” A-Yao assured him, taking his cheek in one hand and kissing the opposite one. 

To Xichen’s further distress, he was not content simply to thrust more and more powerfully against that tantalizing spot inside him, Guangyao also kissed him wherever he could reach, while his hands roamed up his stomach, chest and neck. There was too much going on to maintain full control of his voice any longer. 

Xichen’s large and powerful body curled around A-Yao’s smaller one, unconsciously urging him even deeper, even harder. When A-Yao leaned down and kissed and sucked on his chest, Xichen worried he might pass out from pleasure. Even as his embarrassment grew with every moan, so did the inescapable sensations. 

“A-Yao…A-Yao…” he didn’t even realize as he was breathlessly whispering.

“Er-ge,” came A-Yao’s beautiful voice, dripping with desire for him. 

A-Yao somehow managed the strength to cradle the small of Xichen’s back in both hands, and this time pounded inside him so hard that Xichen felt like he was flying. His eyes rolled back and for several brief moments he was feeling it so much that no voice would escape his throat. He desperately grasped the pillow behind his head as pleasure rolled again and again down everywhere from his hair to his toes.

“Xichen! A kiss…please!” A-Yao’s sweet voice drew him back from the edge, though his tantalizing thrusting continued.

Xichen was barely able to respond but to turn his face down toward his husband, and sink into waves of bliss against his lips. 

A-Yao’s thrusting became slow and sharp. Warmth spurted inside his body. Xichen gasped against A-Yao’s lips as the peak of his pleasure was drawn out longer and longer by the sensation of A-Yao continuing slow but powerful thrusts as he drained himself inside him. He also came again at some point, but his pleasure went on so long that he was not clear exactly when.

Though Xichen was largely unresponsive for several minutes following the experience, he was slowly drawn back by feeling A-Yao’s reverent kisses against his sweat-streaked face. “I love you,” he was whispering again and again. 

Xichen’s heart felt ready to burst at this softly uttered phrase. He started to gather A-Yao tightly into his arms, but then stopped as he remembered what he had promised to wait to ask him about. “A-Yao,” he said worriedly. “Let me see your back.”

With that, suddenly a mask of indifference fell over the warm glow, and it was the Jin Guangyao of before lying here with him. “What good would it do you to see?” he asked in a controlled and slightly ironic voice.

“I want to share your burdens with you.”

A-Yao’s eyes flew open. The indifferent mask designed to hide what he truly felt slowly fell. Meekly, he curled up beside Xichen with his head resting on his shoulder. “I’ll tell you what happened,” he acquiesced eventually. “But I still don’t want you to see it.”

“Why not?”

A-Yao sighed. “Obviously because it’s ugly,” he said with a trace of irritation, almost as if he thought Xichen were joking about not knowing why. “It’s not even fully healed, so it’s especially ghastly now.” When Xichen opened his mouth to tell him how ridiculous that was, and how he wanted to help him heal, A-Yao bitterly cut him off, “Do you want to hear or no?”

Xichen sighed obligingly and merely curled his arms around his beloved as they were. He idly stroked Guangyao’s hair as he waited for the story.

“Lan Qiren wanted to shatter Hensheng for what he did. I told him that would leave Lan Xichen’s cultivation partner defenseless. I suggested I take the punishment instead, and he agreed, along with a few other conditions.” 

“…my uncle agreed to that?” Xichen murmured, somewhat amazed.

A-Yao actually held a soft, private smile for a moment. “I so rarely have opportunities to play games in people’s minds anymore. I have to say I found that part rather enjoyable.”

Xichen cleared his throat, getting a feeling he shouldn’t delve any more deeply into that particular topic. His heart ached as he hesitated asking the question on his mind, worried it would make A-Yao feel worse. But in the end he decided he would much rather A-Yao share as much of his feelings as possible, from now on. 

“…the discipline whip?” he whispered.

A-Yao nodded expressionlessly. 

“……how many?”

“Three.”

Xichen eventually let out a small sigh of relief that the number was relatively small. Yet he was truly appalled at his uncle for raising his hand to Xichen’s beloved. An ugly mix of guilt and anger built inside him as he realized that his own lack of care and attention toward the person beside him suffering had left these permanent marks on his delicate body. He drew him in tighter and pressed his lips to his hair. 

“I’m so sorry, my love.”

But A-Yao merely smiled softly and snuggled against Xichen’s shoulder as if he had been praised. Xichen could also tell, though he knew the issue was delicate and he would not comment on it, that A-Yao felt at least a small amount of pride toward saving Hensheng. He wanted to encourage him in that growing sense of self-worth, so he would not push him.

They chatted for a while about various things, indeed one of the most enjoyable conversations they had had in years. But it was interrupted at one point by an unexpected noise. Both men, whose hearing was very sensitive, flinched as they heard the sound of skin being slapped. They exchanged a look and then wordlessly both got up to check the adjoining bedroom.

At the sight inside, Xichen lost his breath, while A-Yao scowled as if facing a demon army. 

On the bed, bound and stripped almost completely bare, a glimmering golden sword spirit, his bare posterior propped up on a pillow and glowing red from where it had been slapped. Standing over him and holding him down by his bound hands on his back, free hand raised and ready to repeat the strike, unbelievably, was one in glimmering white. 

Shuoyue heard the door open and looked at his master and husband like a child who had broken something. Without a word of explanation, he crumpled to the floor in a kowtow and apologized profusely. 

“Wh-…what…?” Xichen could not even voice the complete question. 

A-Yao’s jaw tightened and he briefly closed his eyes to hold back his rage. “No, Er-ge. It wasn’t Shuoyue.”

The bound spirit on the bed managed to turn his head enough to see them. He gave a pitiful whimper that was not even remotely convincing. “Er-ge…have you come to set me free?” asked Hensheng with a twinkle in his eye.


	8. My Master's Master

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some discipline is needed for Hensheng, and a reward for Shuoyue.

The tentative affection that Hensheng had earned as a result of Xichen’s return to health simply snapped like a twig. Jin Guangyao had a hard time concealing his urge to visibly tighten in his jaw every moment he was forced to watch the other part of his soul naked and bound on the bed, posterior still stinging red from being slapped, even as he smiled beguilingly up at Lan Xichen while ignoring both his master and lover. Not to mention, the prostrate Shuoyue on the floor, soiling his beautiful white hair on the ground as he begged for forgiveness, for something that had surely not been his idea at all.

“Hensheng,” A-Yao growled low in his throat. All three other men turned in surprise at the unfamiliar tone from him. “Kneel.”

To the shock of both Xichen and Shuoyue, they could see Hensheng’s eyes visibly light up. The sword spirit even trembled slightly. 

With his eyes fixed on his master, he carefully drew himself up to his knees on the bed, his silky black hair tumbling temptingly across his bare shoulder. Now the two more innocent gentlemen in the room could plainly see that – whether from Shuoyue’s slaps or this single word of command from his master – the glimmering gold spirit was already half hard. He lowered one graceful foot to the floor, and then the other. He knelt before his master with a look of absolute devotion, still completely naked and with his hands bound behind his back. The image was truly enough to make one blush.

Shuoyue’s breathing heightened and he stood and looked with worry between A-Yao and Hensheng, not certain if he should intervene.

Without a change in his cold expression, A-Yao said looked down at his sword and said, “Open your mouth.”

With no hesitation, and indeed an increasing flush of pink over his cheeks and a softening of his gaze, Hensheng obediently opened his mouth. He even extended his trembling tongue as if begging. 

A-Yao did not remove his night clothes, but merely parted them at the front and brought his member into his hand. He placed his left hand atop Hensheng’s head to steady him. While getting a certain amount of pleasure from seeing that pathetic and hungry expression in his sword, he teased him by repeatedly lowering his tip down toward Hensheng’s tongue, and then taking it away.

“Hah…” Hensheng panted in frustration, a drop of saliva falling from the tip of his pink tongue to the floor. His eyes were darkened by desire as he looked longingly on Jin Guangyao’s cock.

Xichen had been watching Hensheng with pity, but now he turned to Guangyao with a hard expression. “A-Yao,” he said in a warning tone. 

Truth be told, he was aware that warning was against taking advantage of his devoted sword spirit for these kinds of mildly sadistic entertainments. A-Yao chose to interpret it, however, as a warning against teasing him too much. To comply, he finally tilted down his cock and slid it slowly but mercilessly deep inside Hensheng’s waiting throat.

“Ngh…ghrh…kh…” Hensheng choked and gasped for breath, his throat bulging slightly from being filled so deeply. But though his eyes soon began to tear up, the look on his face was one of pure bliss. Even the two fuddy-duddies in the room found it hard to resist the heat surging through their bodies just at the sight of him.

“Is that it? You can take it deeper, can’t you?” A-Yao admonished, holding Hensheng’s head in both hands and shifting his hips even closer. 

“Egngh!” Hensheng gurgled, while his cock flicked up excitedly toward his stomach, beginning to drip with precum.

As Shuoyue and his own master stood helplessly by, A-Yao brought forth obscene noises from his sword spirit as he slid confidently in and out of his throat, not caring whether he gagged. Hensheng, for his own part, seemed surprisingly relaxed as he allowed his master free reign with his head and throat, only impatiently shifting his hips and moaning now and then. 

“What happened to all that bravado from earlier, I wonder,” A-Yao teased him, driving him to further mad desire by running his fingers lightly down his ear and then up his neck. Hensheng let out a strangled wail and his cock twitched. “The tiger has become a kitten. You look like you want your throat fucked thoroughly. Is that right?”

“Mngrh!” Hensheng gurgled helplessly. There was no way to tell what he wanted to say, but everything about his expression – and the increasingly pink hardness of his cock – betrayed his feelings on the matter.

“Is it?” A-Yao mercilessly demanded again, and this time he punctuated his question by using his foot to press Hensheng’s dripping cock against his own stomach. 

“NNGH!” Hensheng moaned before dissolving into choking noises again. His eyes rolled back with visible pleasure. 

But despite the delicious scene unfolding before him, a sigh emerged from Lan Xichen. He came to stand behind Hensheng, so that A-Yao had no choice but to look at him. Guiltily, A-Yao reluctantly stopped what he was doing. Xichen took Hensheng by the shoulders and helped him to his feet. He immediately cut the binds on his wrists and examined the delicate skin there for injuries.

A-Yao sighed as well, folding his arms. “He likes it, Er-ge.”

Xichen made a regretful expression as he kindly stroked the hair of the astonished Hensheng in his arms. “Perhaps. But I do not.”

Carefully, he kissed one by one the traces of tears away from Hensheng’s eyes. The sword spirit seemed to melt like candlewax at his touch, letting out shivering breaths and leaning into the hands that supported his own. Finally, Xichen held his gaze for a few moments, stroking his cheek and smiling kindly down at him. Hensheng’s eyes drifted naturally down toward Xichen’s lips. Xichen’s smile became even more pleased, and he leaned down to indulge him.

Both Shuoyue and Hensheng took in a sharp breath as Xichen’s lips carefully entwined with his. After only the slightest touch, the glorious spirit let out a pitiful whimper. As Xichen’s hand wrapped around his ribs to support his back, his legs turned to jelly and he all but collapsed against him, only to find his slender, naked form warmly surrounded by Xichen’s voluminous robes.

A-Yao watched all this taking place with interest, though of course, not without a flare of jealousy. And yet, he did find something strangely adorable about how easily Hensheng was turned into a puddle by the barest touch from Xichen. Of course, he would have no qualms about declaring which of the two of them was both more beautiful and more seductive by far.

He soon became aware at his side, however, that someone was not nearly as amused as he. Shuoyue no longer seemed agitated, but there was hidden sadness in his expression as he watched them. A-Yao thought it was an expression he had seen on this spirit’s face before. And then he remembered: it was when they had been trapped together, as Hensheng seemingly set about procuring Xichen’s heart for himself. 

A-Yao sighed softly. “Shuoyue,” he murmured gently to him. Shuoyue’s shimmering white head turned down immediately toward him with devoted attention. “He has told you by now, hasn’t he? Which one he truly loves?”

But those innocent white eyelashes only blinked in confusion at this question. 

At that moment, however, Xichen briefly parted his lips from Hensheng’s and stroked his cheek comfortingly. Hensheng’s eyelashes fluttered as he leaned helplessly against him. “I thought…you said you couldn’t…” the sword spirit stammered, still in amazement at what Xichen had just done.

“I also said I wanted to,” Xichen reminded him with a playful smile. “But that I would not hurt A-Yao by doing so without his knowledge. I do not wish my love for him to be a secret.”

“For…him?” Hensheng repeated, disappointment again emerging on his face.

“Mm,” Xichen seemed delighted despite the downward change in his expression. As he spoke again, he took Hensheng by his shoulders and slowly turned him around to face the pure white figure, still standing obediently off to one side. “My love for him naturally extends to you. Just as you have diverted your feelings for Shuoyue onto me.”

Shuoyue gasped sharply, his pale eyes fluttering as he stared at Hensheng. Hensheng’s face turned several different shades of red, and he suddenly seemed aware of his nakedness, hunching in on himself and attempting to hide among Xichen’s robes. 

With traces of tears forming behind his white eyelashes, Shuoyue took a hesitant step forward. “A-Sheng…do you…”

Apparently the humble spirit could not bring himself to finish the question, of whether Hensheng in fact loved him. His companion sword spirit was too mortified to speak either, seeming reluctant even to leave the protection of Xichen’s arms. Shuoyue’s expression softened. 

“…is there a reason you couldn’t tell me?” Shuoyue prompted gently, though there was already hurt in his eyes at the fear of being rejected again. 

Hensheng let out a shaking sigh, for some reason now looking almost angry. His eyes started to grow red as he murmured bitterly, “Don’t joke. You know why.”

“I thought I knew everything about you, my love,” Shuoyue murmured, and now a tear did run down his silvery cheek. “But I don’t know why.”

Hensheng’s fingers curled into the fabric of Xichen’s sleeves. It was clear now which of the two he was most concerned about, as he merely used Xichen as a hiding place while struggling to face up to his feelings for Shuoyue. He too allowed two hot tears to fall down his cheeks without much change of his expression as he attempted to find and answer.

A-Yao sighed with frustration as he continued to pathetically dilly-dally while Shuoyue was waiting, in pain, for an answer. So Guangyao himself turned to Shuoyue and said, “In his mind, there is no greater gap between any two creatures on earth than between you and him. You are next to divine. He considers himself to something more like a curse on everyone around him. Trust me. It’s my fault he thinks that.”

Xichen watched his husband speak with pain and pity invading his normally serene expression. Hensheng also looked toward Guangyao but with some confusion. Not about the contents of what he said, but the last addition to it. A-Yao knew why he was confused, but he was not quite in a mood to reveal the truth to his sword: the truth that he was not at all as bad as Guangyao had led him to believe. After all, he still hadn’t quite forgiven him for endangering Lan Xichen.

With a stunned expression, Shuoyue slowly turned from Jin Guangyao to Hensheng. The other sword instinctively retreated under his gaze. “A-Sheng…” Shuoyue whispered helplessly. 

Hensheng bit his lip until it bled. “It’s all right. No need to keep pretending you don’t see it.”

“See…?” Shuoyue murmured.

“Oh, this naivete,” Hensheng sighed dramatically, but he was still clearly trembling and crying as he spoke. “Yes, it’s adorable, I admit, but it’s not necessary now. There’s no need to keep forcing yourself, just because your master’s feelings for mine have rubbed off on you.” At the end of this, though his expression was still proud, tears were pouring freely down his face. He turned and curled his fingers against Xichen’s robes. “Now that you know my feelings, you can forget them. I can have a shadow of you. That’s enough.”

Shuoyue seemed stunned beyond words. Fortunately, his master knew this soul well enough to merely sigh and stroke his hair comfortingly. “Dear A-Sheng,” Xichen said compassionately. “Shuoyue does indeed care for your master, as I do. But just as the one you love most isn’t really me, do you think the one he really loves most is your master?” He gestured once with his eyes and then added, “Look.”

Since it was a command from Lan Xichen, Hensheng hesitantly turned. Shuoyue had closed the gap between them and was innocently grasping onto Xichen’s sleeve, as if wanting to remove it from separating himself and Hensheng. His eyes glistened with tears as he gazed with unspeakable admiration, trust, sorrow, and devotion on the gold sword spirit. Xichen’s suggestion to look was the right one, as even in the depths of his self-disgust, Hensheng could not fail to be moved by that gaze.

They both still seemed hesitant to take that last step closer. Xichen raised the arm that was shielding Hensheng and with it, drew Shuoyue close as well. Shuoyue looked up at him with gratitude glistening in his eyes, but then his attention shifted to Hensheng, who was now embraced between them. Shuoyue leaned down and placed a lingering kiss on his beloved’s forehead. Hensheng released a small whimper. 

Xichen stroked Shuoyue’s hair affectionately for a time, then he too placed a kiss on Hensheng’s cheek. Caught between soft kisses and the gentle embrace of these two men, Hensheng trembled and seemed not to know what to do with himself. 

Jin Guangyao had long since folded his arms and rested his hip against a cabinet to observe all of this. He could not pretend that it felt good to see this taking place. And yet, partly because he had not finished with Hensheng, his body had other ideas. His pride prevented him from acting on it, but he was filled to distraction with the urge to touch himself as he watched the two devastatingly beautiful men prying out soft moans from the naked analogue of his own soul.

Shuoyue at last gained the courage to take Hensheng’s cheek in his palm, turning his face up toward his own. They held one another’s gaze for many heart-pounding moments, absolutely lost in the other’s eyes. Finally, the two shared a deep and yet innocent kiss, with Hensheng desperately clinging to both men for support as his legs threatened to give out under him. 

As they kissed, though at first Xichen observed them with the smile of a caring parent, he soon looked up to see A-Yao expressionlessly watching and leaning against the cabinet with his arms folded. “A-Yao?” he asked curiously. “What are you doing?”

A-Yao shrugged, casting a calculated smile at him. “Enjoying the view quite a bit, actually.”

Xichen sighed. He seemed about to extricate himself in order to comfort his insecure husband, but Hensheng was still holding tight to him. To A-Yao’s surprise and further excitement, so was Shuoyue. “My love…don’t be silly. You could at least come over here,” Xichen chided.

“That would be a shame,” A-Yao replied, his smirk becoming a bit more devilish. “I really wish I could paint this scene for you. No erotic drawings would do it justice. Xichen, don’t be cruel. Someone wants you.”

After Hensheng and Shuoyue’s lips parted, though they shared another deep gaze first, Hensheng shamelessly begged for more kisses from Xichen as well. Though not without a dubious glance toward his husband, Xichen clearly found Hensheng’s pleading face difficult to refuse. He stroked his cheek and kissed him gently, until Hensheng wrapped his arms around his neck and encouraged much more passionate kisses. 

As Xichen was busy with his mouth, Shuoyue’s hands roamed down toward Hensheng’s lower hole. Shuoyue did not neglect to drop deep and tender kisses all along Hensheng’s neck while he began teasing his entrance, which the two seemed to have been preparing earlier, because his fingers entered smoothly. Guangyao bit his lip in unconscious hunger as he watched Shuoyue’s two long, graceful fingers working deeply in and out of his trembling lover.

Hensheng gasped repeatedly against Xichen’s lips. This too was a sight that deserved attention; while it undoubtedly felt better to be able to feel Xichen’s warmth and breath against his own skin, it was yet another pleasure to watch his beautiful face from afar as he indulged in tentative pleasure. 

Shuoyue seemed to have decided that Hensheng was ready. Before he filled his lover, however, he did something so sweet that it made A-Yao’s heart flutter too. With a tender expression despite knowing Hensheng could not see him, he ran his hand through his hair, drawing it away from his face and neck. He closed his eyes and placed an extended kiss against Hensheng’s brow. 

Just as Hensheng was tempted away from Xichen and craned his neck back for more kisses from Shuoyue, the latter grasped his stomach in one hand and hip in the other, and slowly pressed inside him. 

Hensheng threw back his head with a gasp, one hand tightly grasping Shuoyue’s hip behind him and the other gripping onto Xichen’s shoulder for support. His slender, naked form was not small but was dwarfed by the two much larger men surrounding him, seeming likely to break in their hands. Only intermittent, softly desperate noises rose from Hensheng, whose expression bordered on confusion at how much pleasure he was feeling. 

A-Yao could not hold back from shifting his hips in impatience to be touched, but he still refused to touch himself in front of so many people. He swallowed heavily, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight.

Xichen unknowingly increased Hensheng’s torturous pleasure by grasping him under his ribs and nuzzling kisses against his neck. When, on top of this, his thumb brushed Hensheng’s nipple, the poor sword spirit let out a loud and pathetic noise. He whimpered as he wrapped both arms around Xichen’s neck while arching his back to encourage Shuoyue’s gentle thrusting inside him.

This went on for some time until Shuoyue seemed dissatisfied with how little he was touching Hensheng’s body. Without a word, he gathered both Hensheng’s legs in his arms, holding him up by the knees and spreading them wide so that both Xichen and Guangyao still had a perfect view of Hensheng’s lascivious body. Deeply kissing his neck, he thrust into him much harder in this position, instantly filling the room with Hensheng’s desperate cries.

Xichen did glance toward A-Yao now and then as if asking if he really did not plan to join them, but unsurprisingly was not able to discern anything from Guangyao’s expression. He still kept half an eye on A-Yao as he took advantage of Hensheng’s captured posture to run his hands down his body, seeking out places of pleasure. 

A-Yao immediately understood from the lack of subtlety in Lan Xichen’s manner that he was experimenting. He still seemed concerned about his lack of experience compared to A-Yao, and perhaps he believed Hensheng would share A-Yao’s preferences in bed. As much as he found this innocent way of thinking quite tiresome – when clearly he was willing to teach Xichen everything himself – A-Yao could not help feeling a sweet of warmth in his heart at Xichen’s dedicated devotion toward him. 

Hensheng was coming apart at the seams. He threw his head back against Shuoyue’s powerful shoulder behind him, desperately gripping onto both shoulders with his hands as well, and even just Shuoyue’s thrusts seemed enough to undo him. That together with Xichen’s slow, delicate tracing over every sensitive part of his skin was almost too much.

Shuoyue too was panting heavily, his attention gradually shifting between his lover and his master. Currently his eyes were fixed hungrily on Xichen’s lips. “Master…” he panted.

Xichen looked up at him curiously, not having expected his attention. When he saw the desire filling Shuoyue’s originally pure and innocent eyes, he could not help being drawn closer. With the trembling Hensheng between them, Xichen blushed as he cautiously allowed Shuoyue to claim his lips as well. 

A-Yao let out a heavy breath. The two were both incomparably beautiful, and the innocence with which they sought each other out only increased the thrill of the sight. Seemingly in jealousy at being left out, Hensheng whimpered and nuzzled Shuoyue’s cheek, even as he again grasped onto Xichen’s chest as if unwilling to give up either one. 

“Master,” Shuoyue gasped as their lips parted. “Join us.”

Xichen’s blush increased dramatically, and A-Yao could practically hear his heartbeat increase from across the room. “J-…join? But…”

Shuoyue’s eyelashes fluttered as he reluctantly stopped thrusting, indulging in soft kisses against Hensheng’s cheek as he slowly pulled out, leaving Hensheng’s hole dripping welcomingly before Xichen. His meaning was quite clear.

Xichen panted as well as he helplessly observed the tempting sight. He glanced up to Hensheng’s eyes for reassurance, only to find them already locked on Xichen’s cock. Hensheng even swallowed hungrily in anticipation. Xichen again turned toward A-Yao with an uncertain gaze, but A-Yao was currently controlling his own desire by biting down on his thumb nail. After meeting Xichen’s gaze, he merely flicked his eyes once in the direction of Hensheng’s hole. Even for the somewhat simple and straightforward Xichen, this gesture was enough.

Slowly and with seeming reluctance, Xichen parted his own nightclothes to produce his member. After a moment of uncertainty, which was eased by Shuoyue eagerly presenting Hensheng even closer, Xichen hesitantly let Hensheng sink down onto him. 

Hensheng let out a howl as Xichen gasped. A-Yao could feel precum dripping down his own cock just hearing them. But then he realized that, as Xichen stood there shaking and seemingly afraid to move, his eyes were closed. 

“A-Yao…” he whispered.

A-Yao gasped and his legs nearly gave out on him, as he somehow came without any stimulation at all. He steadied himself shakingly against the cabinet. But despite cumming against the fabric of his own clothes, he still could not tear his gaze away as Shuoyue realized Xichen had stopped moving, and tried to help him. 

While still propping up Hensheng’s leg under his elbow, Shuoyue slid his elegant hand behind Xichen’s back, holding him there for a moment, almost as if comforting him. But then to the shock of both Xichen and Hensheng, Shuoyue simultaneously pulled Xichen toward him and thrust his own hips forward, pushing Hensheng down onto him. 

“Ahh!” Xichen cried in shock, steadying himself against Shuoyue’s shoulders. 

Hensheng yelped and this time reached back to grip Shuoyue’s neck with both hands. “A-Yue…” he whimpered pitifully, though pleasure dripped from his voice.

Shuoyue could not hold back any longer and claimed his lover’s mouth once more. Yet he did not relent, gently thrusting the two other men together even as he did so. At the last moment when Xichen bit back a moan and his fingers tightened against Shuoyue, finally Shuoyue lifted Hensheng free of him. As Xichen was trembling and recovering from being brought back from the edge, Shuoyue once again lowered Hensheng onto his own cock and thrust gently against him, even as they continued deeply kissing. 

When their lips briefly parted, Hensheng reached back to weave his fingers in Shuoyue’s hair and whined, “A-Yue…I want to be on top…”

Shuoyue nodded. Somehow quite calm, he looked up to Xichen and said, “Master. Please lie down.”

“Eh…?” Xichen murmured dazedly. He looked to A-Yao for reassurance. A-Yao had to let out a shaking breath to calm himself down, but he nodded to encourage him to follow along. 

Xichen cautiously sat down on the bed, and subsequently lay on his back at Shuoyue’s calmly repeated suggestion. Shuoyue sighed softly as he once again extricated himself from Hensheng, who also made a soft noise of regret to be empty again. This time, Shuoyue grasped him around his narrow waist in order to lower him down onto Xichen’s hips. The two once again let out desperate gasps to be connected again. Xichen panted and seemed not to know what to do with his hands as Hensheng moaned on top of him and began lasciviously moving his hips. 

Shuoyue stayed leaned over them for a moment to stroke Hensheng’s hair affectionately, but then he straightened and merely watched patiently by the side of the bed. A-Yao bit his lip as he became uncertain whether he should approach. Despite his own clear enjoyment of the scene, his jealousy, bitterness and pride had reached a point that made it difficult to move past. After all, as Hensheng had reminded him only the previous day, the truth was that he did not match any of the other three gentlemen in this room for looks. Maybe he was not wanted. 

Almost the instant that he had this thought, Shuoyue’s ethereally beautiful head turned toward him. He too seemed uncertain whether he should approach, as A-Yao was still stubbornly giving off an indifferent expression. Cautiously, he took a step nearer.

“Master?” he asked softly. 

A-Yao blinked at him in surprise to be addressed this way. “You precious darling. I’m not your master,” he said with a self-deprecating smile. 

But Shuoyue only smiled back warmly in return. “You are dearer to my master than his own life. You are my master too.”

A-Yao didn’t know quite what to do with this. Before he could muster even the slightest response, Shuoyue took another step closer.

“Master…could I be permitted to…give you pleasure as well?”

A-Yao’s eyes fluttered closed as he covered his rapidly reddening face with a hand in shame. “You ask my permission to do me a favor? How can even a sword be so altruistic?”

Shuoyue looked surprised by the question. “Isn’t that what love is?” he asked innocently. 

And now the reaction A-Yao had to struggle to conceal was an urge to cry. To cover the trembling in his fingers, he covered his mouth with his hand and appeared to be merely thinking. As he considered, the lascivious sounds on the bed grew louder. 

“Ah…Er-ge…” Hensheng moaned.

“A-Yao…!” Xichen cried, seemingly unconsciously.

“No, Er-ge, call my name. ‘A-Sheng,’ say it…”

“Ngh…A-…A-Sheng!”

A-Yao’s cheeks gradually reddened again and he closed his eyes. “Shuoyue…you seem…much more experienced than your master,” he commented idly. “How can that be?”

Shuoyue’s cheeks also gained a little color as he looked away with embarrassment. “That…is probably because the imagination always exceeds the will to act. I…that is…I have all of Master Xichen’s desires, but no social expectations.”

A-Yao’s breathing heightened. “His desires?” he whispered.

Shuoyue nodded solemnly.

"So...you know everything that Xichen desires?"

A glimmer of warmth in the white-lashed eyes of the beautiful sword spirit. He nodded once more.

A-Yao swallowed heavily and closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his courage. His heart pounding, he finally murmured, “Shuoyue. Would you do to me what Xichen desires?”

“Yes,” he replied instantly. 

Before Guangyao could think to object, he found himself gathered into a warm embrace. He was first filled with affection that Xichen’s first instinct would be such an innocent touch. But then disappointment rose up in his chest. What if...this all he wanted from him? 

Shuoyue, however, was only getting started. He curled his fingers in Guangyao’s hair, inhaling deeply from it as he nuzzled against his neck. A-Yao could not refuse such warm expressions of affection, and replied by tightening his fingers over Shuoyue’s broad and secure back. Before he knew it, however, Shuoyue was kissing his cheek. Insistently, without caution or hesitation. A-Yao was already beginning to be overwhelmed by this when those lips met his own.

Warmth flooded all his limbs and made his head spin. Shuoyue’s kisses were firm and hungry, his hands closing down hard over A-Yao’s body and holding him still. Xichen’s and Shuoyue’s forms overlapped in his mind, as his heart swelled to think that Xichen wanted him so badly. 

A-Yao tried to return this passion as well, but as soon as those lips parted from his for an instant to kiss down his neck, he found himself pushed back down onto the cabinet behind him. He let out a soft cry as Shuoyue’s hand stroked possessively down his chest, and suddenly the most sensitive part of A-Yao’s body was enveloped in an achingly warm mouth.

“Ah!” A-Yao cried, his legs instinctively curling over Shuoyue’s shoulders. 

He worried he would fall over the back of the cabinet, but Shuoyue’s hands were so large and steady holding him that all worries soon faded away. Over and over that delicate yet powerful mouth swept down his member, robbing his mind of all conscious thought. After only a few moments of this, he felt Shuoyue’s fingers working inside him too, using some lube he seemed to have produced out of nowhere. A-Yao cried out helplessly as every time he thought he had reached the peak, his pleasure continued to increase.

Barely even waiting for A-Yao to be completely loose, Shuoyue reluctantly removed A-Yao’s cock from his mouth and stood. He enveloped A-Yao in his arms and whispered soft words of comfort to him. While A-Yao was whimpering with both emotional movement and fierce desire, Shuoyue slowly forced him open. 

A-Yao trembled, his mouth open but no sound escaping him. Despite his cold appearance, Shuoyue's member was as warm as Xichen's. And nearly as big. The huge force rose slowly up inside him, Shuoyue always keeping aware of his reactions but not relenting. He kept pushing until he was all the way in, making A-Yao feel as if he might split in two. Once he was in, he only allowed A-Yao a moment to rest.

“Ngh!” A-Yao screamed as he thrust only once. A-Yao had been teased too much and Shuoyue was too beautiful and passionate. He could feel the urge to cum rising up almost the moment he was inside. 

As A-Yao was right on the edge of cumming, Shuoyue wrapped him up in his body and fucked him both tenderly and ruthlessly against the cabinet. A-Yao’s vision repeatedly darkened as pleasure seemed to fill every cell in his body. He could barely breathe from the powerful force of Shuoyue’s hips, or the thought that this was what Xichen wanted to do to him. He moaned and let his head fall back, unable to hold back the pleasure one moment longer.

But just as he had done with his master, Shuoyue stopped as soon as he saw A-Yao about to cum. He easily picked up his small form against his chest, and without removing his cock from inside him, gently carried him over to the bed. He lay him down beside his husband. 

“A-Yao…” Xichen gasped, reaching out to grasp his hand.

“Er-ge…” A-Yao whispered, bringing Xichen’s hand up to his lips and covetously kissing his fingers.

But no sooner had the two shared these affections than their swords decided to return their attention to the present. Moans fills the air inside the Cold Chamber as Hensheng and Shuoyue redoubled their efforts. 

Shuoyue grasped onto A-Yao’s hips and nearly lifted him entirely from the bed as he pounded deeply inside him. Hensheng spread both hands across Xichen’s chest as he thrust Xichen’s cock harder and harder up into himself. In moments, the masters were completely undone by these first-class spiritual tools. 

“Xichen!” A-Yao screamed. 

“Ngh…A-Yao…!”

Hensheng’s head fell back and he let out several heavy gasps as Xichen began pumping cum deep inside him. Shuoyue likewise paused to allow A-Yao to spurt dilute cum all over his own chest, shivering with pleasure long after his balls had been exhausted. 

It took all four almost a full minute of heavy breathing to recover. Xichen was the first to reach out and weakly pull A-Yao toward him, wrapping him protectively in his arms. Shuoyue met Hensheng’s eyes and leaned over to kiss him, then lifted him free of Xichen’s cock and into his own arms again. Shuoyue lay back on the bed with Hensheng on top of him, and to the disbelief of the other two, they both immediately started fucking again as if their masters were not there.

But after a moment, A-Yao too realized that Xichen’s sweetness from just now had awakened his desire again as well. Though still trembling, he crawled over and spread his legs over Xichen’s waist. He swallowed hard with hunger, suddenly realizing why Hensheng liked this position. 

Xichen looked up at him with an aching expression, lovingly caressing A-Yao’s face and running his other hand down his shoulder and waist. “A-Yao…I still…”

A-Yao nodded. “Don’t worry, Er-ge. Even if I get tired before you, there will never be a time when I don’t want more of you.” 

Letting his weight rest over Xichen’s broad and comforting chest, A-Yao kissed him sweetly as their bodies were finally united again. That night, the two couples embraced one another until they were entirely exhausted, pausing only to exchange words of love and devotion. 

Thus, at least until this sword spirit situation was resolved, the inner disciples of the Cloud Recesses learned to give both the Chamber of Silence and the Cold Chamber a wide berth after dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and suggestions immensely appreciated! At the moment I'm thinking about adding Jiang Cheng and Nie Mingjue into the mix. In my mind, Sandu is a tsundere tyrant, and Baxia is everything that Nie Mingjue usually tries to hide behind anger. In other words, a total cinnamon roll. Love to hear from you and thanks for the support!


	9. Just Go Die, Wei Wuxian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wei Wuxian's mischief reaches both the Unclean Realm and Lotus Pier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note 1: Kang Ruien is an OC from Gray Skies of Qinghe, Jin Guangyao’s replacement as deputy in the Qinghe Nie Sect and Nie Mingjue’s lover.  
> Note 2: Kang Ruien’s sword is called Renjun 仁竣.

When Kang Ruien without warning received a present from the Cloud Recesses one afternoon, he couldn’t help feeling uncomfortable. Even if the world had accepted him as Nie Mingjue’s cultivation partner, he still considered himself primarily his deputy. He was not a suitable receiver for a gift from anyone in such a great clan. 

Uncertain what to do with it, he made his way to Nie Mingjue’s study. Saying nothing, he simply stood in the doorway expressionlessly, the gift awkwardly held in front of him. 

Nie Mingjue paused from what he was doing and displayed a dubious expression. His sharp eyes flicked down to the gift in Kang Ruien’s hands. “Did Xichen send you something?” he growled softly, still inherently suspicious. 

Ruien considered, but then shook his head. “I’m not sure. There’s no letter.”

Mingjue sighed slightly. He gestured for Ruien to come closer. Lately he had been more open about expressing affection toward Ruien, even in more or less public settings like the place where he conducted clan business. He wrapped his arms around Ruien’s waist and gently pulled the smaller man into his lap, where Ruien quickly became so comfortable he almost forgot about why he came in. 

His head resting on Ruien’s shoulder, Mingjue too curiously observed the small, cloud-themed box in his hands. “It does look like a gift,” he observed. “Why wouldn’t Xichen attach a note?”

Ruien wondered the same, and in fact suspected that it was not from Lan Xichen. He doubted that anyone who meant his clan leader harm would be so careless as to leave a suspicious package with no note, so he was relatively certain it was safe. On the other hand, he was not well acquainted with anyone of note at the Cloud Recesses beyond Jin Guangyao, a person who would vomit blood before breaching any protocol of etiquette. Moreover, Lianfang-zun was not the type to send gifts when there was no expectation of recognition.

“Clan Leader, can you feel any spiritual energy from it?” he asked, holding the box up for Mingjue to see better.

Mingjue accepted the item and turned it over once to examine all sides. He reached out with spiritual energy to probe its contents. His ever-present frown only darkened slightly. “A little,” he said, turning it over again in suspicion.

As he turned it this time, there was a small noise of something rolling around. He brought the box close to his face and sniffed. “…incense?” 

Ruien was only more puzzled. “I was not aware that anyone in the Cloud Recesses had a hobby of incense-making.”

Mingjue’s dark eyes narrowed. He placed the box on the table in front of them. “Open it. If it’s something dangerous, I’ll blow it to pieces,” he said, gathering spiritual energy to his palm.

Ruien calmly obeyed, never feeling quite so safe as when Nie Mingjue’s arms surrounded him. He slid the lid slowly off the box to find a single stick of incense inside. Here, there was a small note. Also a mildly amusing drawing. 

‘Have yourself a little fun with Mighty Eyebrows-gege. Courtesy of the Yiling Patriarch.’ 

The drawing below was of a winking young man with unruly black hair, which also made the outright stating of his own name unnecessary. Ruien pursed his lips with a resigned expression. What exactly had he done to earn becoming a plaything of Wei Wuxian? There was no doubt in his mind that was what this gift was for. He did not know the Yiling Patriarch well, but everything about him said that nothing was worth doing unless it was amusing.

Ruien was surprised when Nie Mingjue read the note, and his only reaction was to lower his hand, allowing the spiritual energy there to dissipate. He didn’t look happy, but neither did his expression speak particularly of anger.

“Clan Leader?” Ruien asked gently. 

Mingjue glanced in his direction but didn’t meet his eyes before looking away again. “What does he mean by that?” he grumbled. 

“Which part?” Ruien asked, his heartbeat rising a little about what Mingjue’s ideas for ‘fun’ might be. 

Instead the improbable question that rose from his warlike clan leader was, “…what’s wrong with my eyebrows?”

A warm, soft feeling spread from the core of Ruien’s body, and oddly he was so happy he couldn’t even bear to smile to release it. He comforted his clan leader with kisses against his brow and cheek. “Nothing,” he murmured against his skin. “They suit you perfectly. I love them.”

Mingjue’s expression still seemed quite troubled but at least looked a little less unhappy. He huffed irritably. “…isn’t that just because you’ve got some weird fetish?”

Ruien only smiled warmly at him and this time begged for a kiss with a soft brush against Mingjue’s with his own. He loved the darkening of Mingjue’s eyes as his gaze intensified. His clan leader wove his fingers through his hair at the back of his neck and pulled him in close for a deeper kiss. It was not his usual hungry kind, but a sweet, enduring kiss. Ruien was caught between blissful warmth, wishing this feeling would never end, and a deep need building up inside him. 

“Your room…?” he asked breathlessly as their lips parted.

A hint of color rose over Mingjue’s swarthy skin. He seemed surprised at the obviously suggestive utterance. “You don’t care about the present anymore?”

Ruien shrugged. “Let’s take it with us.”

“You trust Wei Wuxian?”

“Well, I trust he knows how to have a good time,” Ruien whispered, extending his tongue and giving a frustratingly tiny lick to Mingjue’s upper lip. 

The great man let out a heavy breath of air in frustration at his precocious lover. With only a small grumble of reluctance, he pocketed the incense, easily gathered Ruien up in his arms, and carried him off to his chamber. 

Stripping off the attractive but bulky clothes to reveal Nie Mingjue’s rippling body of iron-like muscle and scars was a thrill that never got old for Kang Ruien. His heart thrummed as he pulled down one shoulder of his yi, and that round and rippling shoulder came into the light. Ruien couldn’t resist coming in close to taste Mingjue’s skin. 

Mingjue patiently allowed this for a moment before he began methodically removing Ruien’s clothes, though not stopping Ruien from kissing and teasing at his body as he did. Mingjue’s breathing heightened, however, as Ruien’s knuckles ran slowly up a certain rapidly hardening part of his body. His brows drew close together. His fingers tightened over Ruien’s shoulders. 

He soon grunted for Ruien to stop though. “Not today,” he muttered. “Today…I just want to give it to you.”

Ruien blushed, thinking he meant shoving it in without preparation. He was a little nervous, but his devotion to Mingjue removed many of his normal logical barriers about his own capabilities. They had made love just last night, after all, and even if it hurt at first, no doubt he would get used to it eventually. 

Contrary to his expectations, however, once they were both mostly undressed, Mingjue picked him up again, this time laying him out carefully on the bed. But rather than climb on top of him, he knelt beside the bed and grasped Ruien’s hips in both hands. And then Ruien bit his lip as heat slowly enveloped his cock, as Mingjue unhesitatingly brought him into his mouth.

It wasn’t that Mingjue never did this for him, but it often felt like simply reciprocation. Now, he was deeply savoring the taste, almost as if he had no intention of making Ruien cum, but was simply expressing his appreciation. Ruien thought his heart would explode as he saw the imposing man’s eyes flutter, apparently getting turned on by what he himself was doing. Though Mingjue had not shown any desire for this so far, Ruien’s heart pounded thinking about what the incredibly strong and masculine Nie Mingjue might look like on the receiving end.

“Cl-..-an…leader…” he whispered, still unconsciously holding back his voice.

Mingjue scowled, even though Ruien’s cock was still inside his mouth, and grunted simply, “Name.”

“M-…Mingjue…you don’t have to…”

Further irritation made Mingjue’s impressive eyebrow twitch. After sliding his own fingers inside his mouth alongside Ruien’s cock to moisten them, he stubbornly commanded Ruien’s attention by teasing him open. Helplessly, Ruien choked back moans. The feeling of being stimulated in both places at once was almost too much. He desperately wanted to cum, but didn’t want this feeling to end so soon.

“Ngh…Ming…jue…” he gasped softly, then immediately bit his lip to stop from crying out.

Mingjue saw this too, but instead of looking annoyed, this time his expression was troubled. While keeping his fingers deep inside Ruien, he drew up over him and pressed a finger to his lower lip to get him to stop biting. 

“I told you,” he murmured, his rumbling bass so unbearably gentle in times like these. Ruien trembled as he met the terrifying man’s gaze, which now held only tenderness. “I want to hear your voice.”

Ruien reluctantly let go of his lip. Mingjue looked ruefully at the red marks his teeth had left there, then nearly causing Ruien a heart attack as he licked the place, as if trying to heal it as an animal would. Ruien couldn’t hold back after this and begged for multiple, lengthy and deep kisses, all the while letting out soft moans into Mingjue’s mouth from the increasingly bold movements of his fingers inside him. 

Ruien was trembling and his consciousness hazy by the time their lips parted. He wanted to simply pull Mingjue on top of him and finally feel him inside, but then Mingjue slid his arms underneath him. He carried him onto the bed and sat down with Ruien in his lap, facing away from him. Though the heat between his legs was only gathering at being in this warm and comfortable position, entirely wrapped up in Mingjue’s embrace, Ruien contentedly leaned his head back into the hollow of Mingjue’s neck, wishing they could somehow always stay this way.

Mingjue indulged him for a few moments by simply lightly running his hands over his body, and softly nuzzling his hair. At length he paused, though, and asked in his gruff voice, “Should we finish just like this?”

He punctuated this question by sliding his hand up Ruien’s leg, but he made no move to touch his truly sensitive places. He didn’t need to. After all, Ruien could feel all this while the monster between Mingjue’s legs pressing up between their bodies. At this suggestive question, Ruien unconsciously shifted his hips wantonly, savoring the heat and pressure of Mingjue’s cock sliding between his butt cheeks and nearly touching his entrance.

He wordlessly shook his head and reached both arms up behind him to squeeze down on Mingjue’s shoulders. They both knew, he was begging to be filled properly.

Mingjue exhaled heavily and Ruien felt his cock twitch beneath him. Mingjue fumbled for a moment to reach the oil they kept by the bedside, and spread some over his fingers. Hitching up Ruien’s body slightly in his arms, he held him tight and pressed his face against his hair as he made sure there would be no friction between them. Satisfied Ruien was ready, he lowered his weight down inch by inch toward his lap, and his length slowly filled Ruien to his deepest places.

Ruien couldn’t help arching his back and tensing even after it was all the way in. He could feel it pulsating inside him. Heat touched every sensitive spot, and even seemed to be pressing against his cock from the inside. Normally, one thrust in a position like this would do him in. But Mingjue didn’t move yet.

He seemed captivated by the barely contained pleasure on Ruien’s face. He watched him silent and still for some time, only moving slightly to keep Ruien’s weight stable above him. Finally, he hugged him and simply held him just like this for a few moments. 

“Ruien. Are you comfortable?” he asked, his fingers reaching up from his chest to play lightly over Ruien’s cheek.

Ruien’s eyes stung with tears of happiness as he looked up toward his clan leader and kissed his cheek repeatedly to express his love and contentment. Mingjue let him do so for some time, until he seemed to lose patience and grasped his chin to hold him steady. He held him tightly across his chest as he kissed him deeply, letting his head fall back against Mingjue’s shoulder. 

This was finally too much, and Ruien cried out in a loud but muffled moan against Mingjue’s lips. A few drops of cum spurted from his cock, but since Mingjue hadn’t been moving it was not a full orgasm, and it left Ruien shaking and somewhat frustrated. 

He weakly pawed at Mingjue’s broad chest behind him. “Mingjue…not enough…”

“I know. Hang on.”

His broad hands wrapped themselves around Ruien’s thighs and lifted him up, while at the same time Mingjue withdrew his hips, so that only the tip was inside. Expecting him to pound him mercilessly at this point, Ruien was further overstimulated as he was instead impaled slowly and torturously.

“Nngh!” Ruien moaned, his teeth again catching on his lip in instinct. 

Mingjue’s deep voice rumbled temptingly against his cheek, “Stop that.” He inserted two fingers into Ruien’s mouth, simultaneously teasing his sensitive tongue and leaving him no recourse to hold back his voice.

“Anngh!” he cried out without impediment, as Mingjue gathered both his legs up into his arms and slowly lifted him up and down. 

This kind of tender lovemaking was not entirely new for the two of them, but it seemed Mingjue grew more and more tender, and less hurried each time they did so. Ruien could not decide whether this were bliss or torture, an opinion even less easily reached as a slow orgasm built up over the next few minutes of slow and warm embracing. 

Ruien moaned helplessly around Mingjue’s fingers as he impatiently tried moving his own hips, only to find he was held so securely and easily inside Mingjue’s great arms that he could barely move an inch. He finally gave up his resistance and moved one of his own hands to touch the aching front part of his body. 

Mingjue’s remaining hand let go of Ruien’s legs to reach up and stop him again. “Let me,” he murmured against Ruien’s cheek. 

His large, calloused hand was barely even filled by Ruien’s cock, and easily surrounded it. From the fingers still toying with his tongue to the hot, powerful cock being achingly slowly moved inside him, to Mingjue’s warm, strong hand around him, Ruien could only stand a moment of this before crying out loudly and cumming in repeated, powerful waves.

Mingjue grunted at the sensation of Ruien tightening around him as he came. He closed his eyes and hugged him tight until the sensation had died down. Only after this did he move his hand from Ruien’s cock to pressing down against his stomach, rubbing the place where Mingjue’s cock was pressing up against Ruien’s stomach.

“Clan leader…” Ruien whimpered, and even though he had just cum, this time actively moving his hips. 

“ ‘Mingjue,’ ” the terrifying man growled in his ear, but ended the soft threat by nibbling on Ruien’s ear.

Ruien whimpered yet again, but he placed both hands on top of Mingjue’s as it covered his stomach, and held it there as he began to actively pump himself up and down, yearning for Mingjue to fill him with yet more heat.

Mingjue panted roughly and pushed back Ruien’s chin to expose his neck. He bit and tasted deeply of it as Ruien was finally able to move as fast as he wanted, and in moments brought both of them to the peak of pleasure. 

“Ah…Mingjue!” 

“Ruien…” Mingjue grunted, but then swallowed up Ruien’s remaining moans inside an overpowering kiss.

“Nnnnngh!” Ruien nearly screamed, as he felt white hot cum bursting inside his body. His own cock let out dilute dribbles of cum as he gyrated helplessly on his clan leader’s lap, feeling as if he had been fucked inside out. 

After staying this way in a long and blissful cuddle for some time afterward, the two tumbled to bed almost in these same positions and slept deeply until morning. 

…

Ruien was the first to wake as usual the next day. Though somewhat dimwitted in his own estimation during the early hours, he always got up like clockwork at the same time every day to prepare breakfast for both Mingjue and himself and to get a start on work before things piled up. He was not paying much attention to his surroundings as his bad eye passed over an unusual shadow in the room, but fortunately his logic kicked in as he realized there shouldn’t be any human-shaped things inside this room apart from the sleeping man he had just left in bed.

He stopped just as he was about to reach the door. He turned back the way he had just come. And only barely restrained a shout of surprise at what he saw. 

A huge, hairy creature stood nearly half again as tall as Ruien was, red eyes glowing from behind black locks which concealed almost its entire face. Its presence was so intimidating that Ruien had reached for his sword before he realized, only to find it was somehow not on his belt. But as soon as the creature saw him on his guard, those red eyes lowered. So did its shaggy head. There was something so mournful about the image that Ruien could not bring himself to feel antagonistic toward it any longer. 

There was something so familiar about it. He cautiously took a step closer, peeking up to see its face better in the low morning light. “…Baxia…?” he found himself murmuring.

The creature looked up. Though it was difficult to tell by looking, Ruien felt the atmosphere instantly change. The melancholy of a moment ago faded in favor of soft regard. The creature lowered its head again, but this time it seemed to be offering its hirsute head for a pat. Stunned, Ruien couldn’t bring himself to deny Baxia a few strokes of his profuse hair. 

“You are Baxia, aren’t you? How…did you come to be like this?” he asked softly.

Those red eyes, though still inherently frightening, looked toward Ruien with a trace of confusion and helplessness. Not only did Baxia seem unsure of the answer himself, he seemed incapable of speech, even in a (more or less) humanoid form. Ruien had a bad feeling as he realized his sword was gone too. 

He listened for a moment for a sound he hoped but did not expect would be absent on this peaceful morning. Sure enough, however, horse hooves sounded in the courtyard beyond. “Quickly, Baxia. Come with me,” he said, and raced outside, now fully awake. 

They only came out just in time to see a mounted figure streak past them with a broad smile and a whoop of joy. 

“Renjun!” Ruien called out sharply.

The sword spirit, now turned to a rather rough-looking but Ruien thought rather inappropriately handsome Sogdian man, reluctantly slowed and rode back to at least keep within earshot of his master. He seemed very upset to be stopped but also unwilling to entirely disobey. He looked sullenly at the ground rather than at Ruien as he waited for an order.

Beside him, Baxia lifted his head. Now that they were outside, he stretched up his back and – if possible – grew even taller as he sought to see Renjun’s face better. His arms, disproportionately long compared to the rest of his body, lifted slightly as if he wanted to reach up and take Renjun from his mount, but he hesitated. 

At this moment, a half-asleep Nie Mingjue – whose temper in the morning was possibly the worst throughout the day – shuffled out of his room to view the inordinately noisy courtyard of his normally peaceful and disciplined Unclean Realm. He scowled darkly at Ruien, Renjun and Baxia in order with increasing displeasure.

And after a tense moment of silence between them, the only comment he seemed able to make was, “…the hell is this?”

…

Quite unlike Kang Ruien, Jiang Wanyin felt nothing strange about being sent a gift from the Cloud Recesses. So much so that he did not even notice the note that had shifted upside-down in the box, and merely took out the incense inside and tried meditating with it that evening. After all, there could hardly be anything amiss about a gift from Lan Xichen.

He found the scent pleasant enough and meditated peacefully that night until it was time to sleep. He slept well, but experienced strange dreams as he did, of being pulled in separate directions by two people that he was somehow extremely familiar with, but didn’t remember having met.

When he woke the next morning, the mystery was unfortunately solved. He in fact woke to two voices loudly arguing above his head. 

“…and the only one who could bring us remotely the amount of love our master needs is Wen Qing!” said a female voice, almost a mix of Madam Yu and Jiang Yanli.

“Lan Xichen!” came a male voice that somewhat resembled Jiang Cheng’s own, but somewhat lighter.

“Wen Qing!”

“Lan Xichen!”

“Wen Qing!”

“Lan Xichen!”

“He’s a monk and taken!” the female speaker persisted angrily. “Not to mention he’d never look twice at this fool. His own foster brother was a cut sleeve but never gave him a second glance, and he’s a myrmidon and a scoundrel!”

It was at this point, as the male speaker choked back a noise of anger, that Jiang Wanyin awoke fully from his sleep and stared at the impossible sight before him. Standing on either side of his bed were a beautiful man and a dangerously erotic woman, the former dressed in flowing robes of pink and white, the latter in seductive purple. These had indeed been the two people in his dream. And despite the horror he felt over the thought of it, as soon as he saw them in real life, he had no doubt about who they were.

The male speaker finally shouted back, “Just because he’s only settling for Wen Qing doesn’t mean he really loves her!”

Jiang Cheng and the female speaker both gasped at the cruelty of this pronouncement, and Jiang Cheng prayed it was just a lie said in anger. His stomach twisted at the thought he might indeed be just as indecisive and shallow as Wen Qing – and apparently his two spiritual weapons – seemed to think he was.

“You…you…” Jiang Cheng sputtered helplessly, as they finally took notice of him. Red-faced and in a maximum state of panic, he accused, “You didn’t have my permission to become human! Sandu! Zidian!”

“Ah?” Zidian grunted irritably, tossing her shimmering black hair over her seductively bare shoulder. “Don’t blame us. We didn’t become like this by choice.”

Sandu tossed his head back toward the remains of the incense still giving off a slight scent behind him. Jiang Cheng stared in shock at the aftermath, disbelieving that Lan Xichen could be responsible for this. Then he remembered seeing a flash of something white inside the box as he had opened it, and tossed away the covers to run back toward where he had left it.

Inside was a messy note, with an obscene drawing of two male cultivators on top of each other. It simply read, “Good luck, Jiang Cheng.”

Jiang Cheng crumpled the paper almost to pulp in his hand before his spiritual energy flashed and engulfed the page in fire. “Wei…Wu…XIAN!!! JUST GO DIE!!!!!”


	10. "Qinqu"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jiang Cheng and Nie Mingjue arrive at the Cloud Recesses, both chomping at the bit to get a hold of Wei Wuxian. The discussion that ensues provokes a spark of an idea that is strangely shared by both Jiang Cheng and Jin Guangyao, though for different reasons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: the confusion between Jin Guangyao and Lan Xichen arises from the two near-homonyms: qínqǔ 琴曲 and qǐnqǔ 寝取 (pronounced the same in context). The former means “a tune on the zither.” The latter is a literal transliteration of the Japanese “netorare 寝取られ,” or the sexual fetish of either stealing someone else’s, or watching someone else steal one’s own partner through sexual persuasion.

Jiang Cheng spent most of that morning crouched down with his hands over his ears and eyes shut tight, trying to pretend he was not hearing the incessant arguing of the two other pieces of his soul. How could this be?! He’d been tricked by Wei Wuxian before, but never this badly. It was so humiliating he almost couldn’t even bring himself to be mad about it. Almost.

“…and continuing the family, have you thought of that?” Zidian asked, still on the offensive. “He’s got a maternal nephew, and that’s it. Do you know how useful a maternal nephew is for carrying on the family name? I’ll tell you. Not at all!”

“You…” Sandu struggled, his face turning pink as Jiang Cheng’s used to as a child when he got angry. Though Jiang Cheng was frankly amazed at how sparkling and attractive they both were, he found it difficult to see past all his many faults being fully exposed. 

Before Sandu could mount a counterattack, Zidian let out a soft, derisive laugh and leaned seductively over the bed to make her point all the more convincingly. “And since when exactly did our master decide he doesn’t have a problem with cut-sleeves?”

“L-…Lan Xichen is special!” Sandu insisted, his face growing a deeper red. He looked as if he wanted to run away rather than explain himself any further. 

“Oh really?” Zidian purred, clearly aware she had caught something good. “I think you’ll need to be more specific. Exactly which part of Lan Xichen-“

“Ahhh! I can’t take it anymore!” Jiang Cheng roared, jumping to his feet. “Both of you. We’re going to the Cloud Recesses.” With a dark glower over his face, he added as he left the room, “And kick Wei Wuxian in the balls.”

Sandu nodded tightly and followed his master. 

“Well, finally someone’s making sense,” Zidian pronounced, moving out after them. 

…

Recently, Lan Wangji had noticed Wei Wuxian giggling to himself whenever there was a dull moment. He often had a sparkle in his eyes that bordered on mad excitement. Though he secretly loved it, Wangji had had enough experience with his mischievous cultivation partner to know to be wary of that look. 

“Wei Ying,” he said on one peaceful afternoon, as he was practicing his guqin and watching his lover sprawl out on some cushions in the afternoon sun beside him. 

“Mm?” asked the miscreant, turning over onto his stomach and propping his chin up on his hands sweetly. 

Wangji was silent for a time. Partly, he wasn’t sure how to broach the question, given that he had no specific suspicion in mind. But partly, his heart was moved to silence by the adorable person under his gaze. The warmth began to be almost uncomfortable as he realized Wei Ying was also looking up at him with a soft admiration and fascination.

But Wei Ying soon tilted his head curiously and asked, “What’s wrong, Hanguang-jun? Am I so handsome you can’t speak?” he asked with a joyful laugh.

Cute, Wangji corrected internally, but decided it would be slightly too embarrassing to say this correction out loud. He again lapsed into silence, wondering whether it was even worth worrying about. He had had enough scares when it came to Wei Wuxian. They had made him overly cautious and protective. As long as Wei Ying was happy, though, nothing much else seemed to matter to him anymore.

Wangji shook his head dismissively. “It’s nothing. Are you hungry?”

“Oh. I am little peckish!”

“Mm.”

Wangji swept to his feet, went over to a cabinet and produced from it some Emperor’s Smile and a bag of roasted peanuts. He brought them over to his husband and sat beside him to pour his drink for him.

“Oh, and a drink too! You really are too thoughtful…heh…” After his excitement faded, Wei Ying laughed weakly, and he flicked his gaze over at Lan Xichen with mild suspicion. 

Wangji noticed his gaze, but ignored it. He understood that Wei Ying was still not used to being taken care of. Actually, he hoped it would take him a little longer to get used to it. His obedient begging face was cute too, but seeing the wheels turning in his head as he struggled to discern how much Lan Zhan loved him was also a special kind of enjoyment.

Wangji placed the full cup on the table beside his husband. “Drink,” he urged, and moved to pour himself a cup of tea as well. 

“Eheh…” Wei Wuxian managed another laugh, but still looked suspiciously at the snack and drink. “When we were young, do you remember you almost popped a vein when you found us drinking and eating peanuts that time?”

Wangji nodded, his lips very faintly curving upward, but not quite making a smile. After all, the memory, especially what happened immediately after, was still embarrassing for him. 

“And…you’re not worried I’m going to get crumbs or peanut shells everywhere or something?” Wei Ying cautiously probed him further, though his little hand was already reaching for the wine cup. 

Wangji shook his head. “I’ll clean it.”

Wei Ying sighed, and inexplicably let his head fall against Wangji’s shoulder with a puff. “You old fuddy-duddy. I can just be careful.”

“Eat,” Wangji urged him again. “Don’t worry.”

“Hmm. Okay. Well then let me get situated. I want the comfiest spot.”

Wangji was at first curious to know which spot in the room Wei Wuxian found the “comfiest,” as he often worried that the spartan lifestyle in the Cloud Recesses was hard for him. But he didn’t have long to ponder, as he soon found his husband sinking down into the hollow of his crossed legs and leaning comfortably back against his chest. 

“Mmm,” Wei Wuxian sighed happily, snuggling back against Wangji. He plopped the bag of peanuts in his lap, took a drink of wine and then turned his head up to kiss the edge of Wangji’s jaw. “Perfect,” he pronounced. 

“…mm,” Wangji replied softly. Though his heartbeat rose slightly with happiness, he also felt he had been given a gift and was reluctant to move at all even as Wei Wuxian happily ate and drank in his lap. 

Their happy glow was interrupted only minutes later, however, by the voice of not one, but two rampaging clan leaders bursting into the Cloud Recesses.

“Wei Wuxian!!” 

First came the booming and guttural voice of Nie Mingjue, utterly shocking the entirety of the peaceful Cloud Recesses. 

“I hope you’ve said your prayers to your ancestors,” he growled, still loud enough to be heard from outside.

“Wei Wuxian!” This angry shout was from Jiang Wanyin. “Come out and face the consequences for your actions!”

Lan Wangji needed a moment to take in the nature of these enraged demands, though they came from two admittedly easily enraged people. The cute creature in his lap had already tensed and seemed to be looking for a way out. Wangji looked down at him for an answer.

Wei Wuxian cautiously peered up toward Wangji, even more adorable than usual as he was slightly panicked. “L-Lan Zhan…protect me…?” he coaxed weakly.

With only a small exhale of resignation, Wangji nodded. 

He picked up his quivering husband, placed him on his feet and made sure he was stable before moving to open the door. He exited before Wei Wuxian and kept him mostly shielded by his body, an endeavor further aided by Wei Wuxian instinctively clinging to him and only peeking his head out from behind his sleeve.

“Ah…heh…Jiang Cheng…C-clan Leader Nie…what brings you here?” Wei Wuxian wheedled, though barely visible to them from where he was.

The question was unnecessary, however, as soon as they saw who Jiang Cheng and Nie Mingjue had brought with them. Wangji’s gaze was instantly drawn to the massive beast hovering behind Nie Mingjue. It stood even taller than the already imposing Mingjue, and that was even while it seemed hunched over as if self-conscious about its own height. It was mostly a mass of black, mop-like hair as far as Wangji could tell, but red eyes were discernable beneath the fringe. He also did not fail to notice the formidable arms that nearly dragged on the ground, ended with pointed claws. 

In addition to an unfamiliar and foreign-looking young man who stood beside Nie Mingjue’s cultivation partner, and was looking quite antsy and bored, there was also a handsome man dressed in pale Jiang-sect colors standing beside Jiang Wanyin, and who was currently ruining his good looks by glowering up at Wei Wuxian. But Wei Wuxian’s own gaze was drawn to the last member of the group, a voluptuous woman dressed in provocative purple. She too was looking toward Wei Wuxian, but seemed to be looking with more superiority and disdain than anger.

“Ohh, pretty girl,” Wei Wuxian murmured reflexively. 

No one present was pleased to hear this, but the most outraged was undoubtedly Jiang Wanyin. “You-!! You put us in this state, and you still can’t take a day off from being a lech?!!! Come here, I’ll break your legs!!”

Wangji expressionlessly raised his arm, hiding Wei Wuxian completely behind his sleeve, and glared down at Jiang Wanyin in the courtyard below. He could see the Jiang sect leader clearly did not want to risk a fight with Lan Wangji unless absolutely necessary, and Wangji was in no mood to allow the usual abuse he heaped on Wei Wuxian.

Nie Mingjue stepped forward. “Wangji,” he said in a sharp tone. “That scoundrel behind your back owes us answers. How can two sect leaders walk around with conscious spirits in place of spiritual weapons?!”

There came a soft cough from behind him. More from his luminous presence rather than this small noise, the eyes of all present turned to the newest arrivals, who had walked into the courtyard not long after Nie Mingjue and Jiang Wanyin. Conveniently, it was Lan Xichen, along with Jin Guangyao, with Hensheng and Shuoyue a few steps behind them. No one could look at this foursome and not realize the identities of the latter two with a glance.

Xichen smiled helplessly. “In fact it’s three,” he said with a note of self-deprecation. “Well…I gather we could use a cup of tea and a chat. Da-ge, after you,” he said, gesturing toward a meditation room that was big enough to house the whole menagerie. 

Nie Mingjue seemed to have blood on his mind, but he also deferred to Lan Xichen, particularly while inside his home. He flicked his sleeve with irritation and walked off first.

Once all were reluctantly seated and tea prepared, Xichen’s normally forgiving expression became somewhat less so. His eyes turned to Wei Wuxian. “Master Wei. Once can be considered an accident. But three times begins to suggest malice. Can you explain this?” he said, gesturing mostly in the direction of the monster Nie Mingjue had brought with him, whose presence nearly filled that half of the room.

Lan Wangji’s stomach twisted slightly. He knew without needing to be told that there had been only one explanation for Wei Wuxian’s actions, and though it was not malice, neither was it benevolence. It was simply Wei Wuxian’s perennial desire and constant vice: fun. Certainly, he could not disagree with his brother that this was not a good enough excuse for doing something that could put the fate of three clans in danger.

Wei Wuxian seemed to feel far more uncomfortable under Lan Xichen’s gaze than anyone else, even those who had come here clearly after his blood. Wangji had never learned why, but Wei Wuxian had never seemed to overcome a certain nervous respect – or trepidation? – that he felt toward his brother. It was mildly upsetting to think the two most important people to Wangji did not see eye to eye, but at the same time it was also a relief that Wei Ying did not seem interested in his far more handsome and kind brother, in Wangji’s own estimation.

“…I…don’t really have an excuse. I’m sorry, Zewu-jun,” Wei Ying mumbled meekly. 

Xichen seemed to gather that there really wasn’t a better answer and closed his eyes briefly in resignation. “Wangji,” he said, causing Wei Wuxian to lift his head suddenly in surprise. “I do not think this kind of thing can go without appropriate punishment, regardless of my personal feelings, and my belief that Master Wei did not mean any real harm. Does your word on this matter still stand?”

Wei Ying took in a sharp breath and looked up at Wangji in gathering concern. 

“Of course,” Wangji answered coolly. 

“Lan Zhan…what does he mean?” Wei Ying whispered to him, tugging at his clothes. 

“Nothing,” Wangji murmured, truly feeling that was the case.

Xichen nodded. “In that case, I’ll leave you to make the arrangements yourself. We still need to discuss things here with Master Wei for a while. Rest assured, no harm will come to him while you are gone,” he added with a gentle smile.

After a moment of hesitation, as he did not wish to leave Wei Ying alone here, Wangji acknowledged that this sort of situation was exactly the reason he had made such a promise to Xichen. He must keep his word on the matter. So in the end, he nodded and rose without another word. 

“Eh? Lan Zhan…” Wei Wuxian called meekly after him in worry. 

He merely met Wei Ying’s gaze and nodded to reassure him. Wangji did want to help with solving their now mutual problem, but he trusted his brother, Wei Ying, and Clan Leader Nie to be able to sort things out. For himself, he must go to the Hall of Ancestors. 

…

That afternoon’s discussion felt long and taxing for everyone involved. By the end, even Lan Xichen was beginning to reveal hints of impatience. 

For his part, Jiang Cheng could not help his eyes from glancing frequently in the sect leader’s direction. Not only the man himself, but also the snowy, divine creature seated a short distance behind him, doting upon a dazzling young man in gold. The sight of the two of them together was enough to move a heart of stone, and Jiang Cheng’s was certainly one of warm blood.

It wasn’t that he necessarily believed what Sandu said. Jiang Cheng was well aware of his own ability to lie to himself, and sometimes even he didn’t know the truth. Sandu might simply be exaggerating a latent admiration in order to disagree with Zidian. But where Zidian’s arguments seemed to arise mostly out of simple practicality, Sandu’s were the opposite. Zidian was right, after all: no good in the world could come from having feelings for someone like Lan Xichen. Innocent, austere, possessing otherworldly looks and skills, the leader of a sect and not to mention already having a cultivation partner. And then of course, there was the issue of his gender.

Jiang Cheng was certainly not a cut-sleeve. He would vomit blood before saying otherwise. And yet…and yet…

His eyes flicked up again toward Lan Xichen’s calm gaze, currently cast down to the right as he listened patiently to Wei Wuxian proposing some nonsense about how they might solve the problem. His eyelashes were so long for a man. They made soft shadows over his high, porcelain cheekbones, making his eyes look large and gentle. Looking at him would make anyone’s heart pound. And his looks were not even the most likeable thing about him. 

After all, Jiang Cheng had spent long enough around Lan Wangji – who shared practically every detail of facial structure – to know that the most he could feel for that ice cold old-man-in-a-young-man’s-body was begrudging acceptance. But Lan Xichen was another matter. He was everything that Jiang Cheng wanted to be, the perfect sect leader and the perfect man. Powerful and gentle, erudite and sophisticated, handsome and charming. And yet somehow, he never felt jealousy over it. All he felt, instead, was a desire to be near him. 

To be near? No, he corrected himself quickly. That sounded almost as if…as if…

Suddenly, he noticed for the first time that day that while he had been getting lost in looking at Lan Xichen, someone else had been looking at him. 

Seated beside Lan Xichen, his cultivation partner, and former conspiratorial political mastermind, Jin Guangyao, was gazing at Jiang Cheng with absolutely no warmth in his expression. It would be overstating to call that expression “anger,” it was too subtle for that. It was more like…yes, the expression on a farmer while watching pigs eat whatever what was put before them. It didn’t even reach disgust, but that was because the expectations were already so low. 

Guangyao noticed that he was being observed. But for a terrifying moment, he did nothing to hide the lack of humanity with which he seemed to view Jiang Cheng. And then, like the sun peaking over a storm cloud, a smile broke over his delicate face. Yet the smile had no more warmth than the expressionless stare of before. Jiang Cheng shivered from head to toe, quickly looking away and carefully avoiding staring at Lan Xichen after that. 

Across the table, Jin Guangyao very subtly tugged on Lan Xichen’s sleeve to get him to turn his head minimally in his direction. “Er-ge,” A-Yao whispered.

“Mm?”

“I’ve been thinking. Since there is a slight dearth of experience between us, perhaps we should make opportunities for you to try as many new things as possible,” he said with a sweet smile.

Xichen frowned in confusion and tilted his head. “You want to try new things? What kinds of things?”

“Have you ever heard of…netorare?” 

Xichen’s brows drew together, but he clearly didn’t understand. “You want me to play something for you? Of course, you hardly need to ask.”

Guangyao chuckled and felt a deep surge of equal affection and pity for his innocent husband. He shook his head and carefully reached under the table to grasp Xichen’s hand. He turned the appendage over, even as Xichen was already beginning to blush, and with deft and seductive strokes, used his fingertip to trace the strokes of the two characters for “sleep” and “take” into the sensitive skin of his palm.

“Qin…” A-Yao whispered softly. “…qu…” 

By the time he had finished tracing out the second character, though Xichen probably still had no idea exactly what the term referred to, he was not quite so naïve as to be able to miss the intense eroticism in both the term itself and A-Yao’s lurid manner of expressing it. A deep blush swept across his ivory-skinned face.

“A-Yao…we’re in public,” Xichen whispered in panic. 

“Mm. Later then?”

Xichen seemed too scandalized to answer, merely clearing his throat and producing a fan to both cool and conceal his face from view. But A-Yao could tell from just his profile, in the way his eyes fluttered against his cheeks, that his mind was filled with untoward imaginings. He was definitely interested. 

Now the only question was whether Guangyao be able to use his superior experience and deviousness to get rid of two birds with one stone: Xichen’s lack of experience, and this troublesome oaf from the countryside who seemed to think he was worthy of even wiping mud off of Xichen’s shoes. A-Yao smiled to himself and took a sip of tea, as he made plans for how to manipulate them both into their proper places. 

That evening, before Lan Xichen had finished with his sect duties – but after Wei Wuxian had been assigned several monumental reading assignments in order to find out how to undo what he had done – Jin Guangyao invited Clan Leader Jiang to the Cold Chamber for a chat. When the clan leader arrived, he looked understandably nervous.

“Is there…something you wish to discuss with me, Lianfang-zun?” Jiang Cheng asked cautiously, as soon as they were both seated and the tea poured.

Guangyao blinked innocently and offered a smile. “Forgive me, Clan Leader Jiang. I had the impression earlier that it was you who in fact had something to discuss with me.”

Jiang Cheng seemed to take this in with mild alarm. “…do I?” he asked helplessly.

A-Yao chuckled. “The potential loan of my husband, for example,” he said without warning.

Jiang Wanyin’s normally warm complexion instantly drained of color. His eyes went wide and blinked several times, as if facing a deadly and terrifying threat. Guangyao tried to conceal his amusement at the fact that he was probably not wrong in that instinct. 

“You…are you crazy?” Jiang Cheng finally sputtered.

Guangyao considered the question. It was in fact a painful one him to contemplate, as it reminded him of how much damage that very idea had done to his and Xichen’s relationship in the past. While he accepted Xichen’s treatment of the old injury to his head now, Xichen’s secret attempts to treat him had once been the cause for the only period when Jin Guangyao’s trust in him waned. The question of mental illness also remained a source for A-Yao’s ever-constant feelings of inferiority. Nevertheless, he carefully let none of this show in his expression.

“I will allow Clan Leader Jiang to make that judgement for himself, but do consider the situation from my perspective,” he said smoothly. “My husband is much less experienced than me. It is entirely possible that what he feels for me sexually is merely a reflection of an emotional attachment, and if so, we might both be kept happier if I could indulge him in seeking sexual partners who might better suit his taste.

“On the other hand, here is a perfectly handsome young man, who seems determined to broadcast to the world the fact that he is utterly suffused in lust for him, and may well match his criteria, whatever they may be. I confess, to spare my husband embarrassment, I rarely delve deeply into the issue of his sexual preferences, so whether or not I fulfill them is still as much a mystery to me as it is to you.”

Jiang Cheng’s mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of water, particularly scandalized by the “suffused in lust” part, but he did not seem able to mount a rebuttal.

Jin Guangyao took a sip of tea in the middle of his explanation and sighed pleasantly before continuing. “I should reassure you, I feel no jealousy toward the idea at all. As far as I am concerned, my relationship with Xichen has a firm spiritual foundation, and sexual touching is only a small part,” he lied effortlessly with a soft smile. “Therefore, I see no disadvantage in giving you a chance with him.

“From your perspective, I can see even less disadvantage. At the very least, you will be able to satisfy your curiosity, of whether you indeed feel attraction for another man, and an older sect leader at that. If you are both satisfied, you may well achieve an informal and continuing sexual relationship.” He paused as he observed his tea with his softest and yet most dangerous smile. “Or…who knows? Perhaps you could even manage to steal his affections completely.”

Though still fully occupied with fear and shock, the resistance in Jiang Cheng’s expression was slowly lowering. He still gazed wide-eyed at Jin Guangyao as if afraid he would attack him, but gradually the tension in his body eased, in favor of another emotion entirely. Anticipation. And also, Jin Guangyao was quite certain, a small flicker of brash arrogance. 

Despite the disdain which rose in A-Yao’s chest over seeing this, he smiled up at Jiang Cheng and tilted his head curiously. “And so? May I hear Clan Leader Jiang’s answer?”

The answer was a long time in coming, but the arrogance of a young and guileless man would not disappoint Jin Guangyao’s keen skills of social observation. 

“………how…could it be done?”

Jin Guangyao smiled over his tea and took a sip.


End file.
